


Furtive Chase

by Shorknado



Series: Hell and Back [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Meet-Cute, Murder, Self-Harm, Stalking, Theres gonna be some gross nsfw later so get ready boyz, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19834555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: Frank Morrison had committed a murder, and he was proud of it. Seeing his work in the news, talked about around town, being praised was everything to him.So when the Ghostface killer strikes at Ormond, and the media gives that guy credit for his hard work, Frank gets a little annoyed. Can't blame the thing behind the mask however, they do great work.In fact one day Frank hopes to meet them.





	1. Friendship Bracelet

**Author's Note:**

> Ghostfrank hours start now and end never

The ball falls through the hoop with a soft swish, barely rustling the frayed fabric of the net as the ball falls. Only to bounce on the asphalt towards Frank. He catches it and dribbles a few times before taking another shot, sinking it almost exactly like the many before. Maybe if that reff wasn't such a flaming cunt he could have actually gotten into a college. Frank catches the ball, underhand tossing it back into the garage where it clatters and knocks a few of Clives tools over. Guy probably wouldn't even notice if a bomb went off over his roof he was so shitfaced. He presses the button on the inside of the garage and steps back, listening to the door close as he makes his way towards the sidewalk and down the street. School was about to let out and he hadn't seen most of the others all weekend. They had all been...busy.

He shivers as a sharp breeze rolls by, reminding him that winter was still kicking around. He zips his outer jacket more, wiping some snow off their usual picnic table taking a seat. He watches the school building as the minutes tick by, waiting for the bell. It was the first day back from winter break, at least for those still attending school. For him it was another day, for the others it was more. Less than three weeks ago they had all murdered a man and buried his body at the abandoned resort.

So far he was missing, and rumors were flying. He didn't expect people to care too much but hey, small town big news. He knew that he could keep a secret like that, but he was worried that they couldn't. These guys weren't used to pressure, and this was one hell of a stress test. The bell rings, and after a few moments students start streaming out of the building. He watches absently as three figures break off from the masses and start his way. He smiles, and waves a hand in greeting.

"Hey nerds, you learn anything in there?"

Joey kicks snow off the bench part of the picnic table next to Frank's legs and takes a seat, leaning back on the table and sighing, "Not a damn thing."

"Thankfully most of the teachers didn't actually want to teach anymore than we wanted to learn. You know how it is, eh." Julie adds, making the executive decision to stand.

Susie remains quite, clearing away snow from the other side of his legs and sitting down. She had a thoughtful frown on her face. Silence was quick to fall over them again, it happened more often these days and it was really starting to piss Frank off. Better address the elephant in the room.

"So...what's the word on the janitor." Frank asks casually. Immediately the others stiffen. Julie looks down at her feet, and he can see Joey and Susie pointedly looking away. Frank stares at them with raised eyebrows.

"Don't leave me in suspense." He presses, knowing they'll crack after a few moments.

"He's still missing, as far as everyone knows." Joey finally says after an extended silence, "Most people seem to think he ran off after robbing the store."

"Great! See now stop being pussies about it!" Frank says, jumping off the table and giving the three a mock stern glare, "No ones gonna find him, no ones gonna care. So lets go get a few double-doubles and fuck around, eh?"

He can see them all relax ever so slightly. Good, good, now they would all stop acting like suspicious morons. He quickly leads then away from the school, immediately starting in on topics to keep their minds of their guilty conscious. They're not usually so easily distracted, but considering the alternative topic Frank is able to steer the conversation to mock normalcy.

All is going well until roughly eleven at night. He's laying on the floor of Joey's room, listening to his parents watching TV downstairs. Joey is sound asleep when the news drops.

"The body of missing person Patrick Doe has been discovered buried in the abandoned Ormond Ski Resort. Police say the victim has been dead for at least three weeks, the cause of death from multiple stab wounds. So far no suspect has been identified and the culprit remains at large-"

The TV clicks off, and Joey's mom sighs, "Oh how awful. That poor man, who would do such a thing?"

He can't help a manic grin tugging at his lips, and a weird warmth in his chest bubbles up. In a nineteen shitty years of his life, he had never felt such pride over something he had done. He had killed that janitor, he buried the body, he was going to get away with it. These small town cops could barely figure out who kept tagging the school, despite the culprits being obvious. They would never come close to cracking this cold case.

The others would do their best to ignore this shit, they wouldn't crack under the pressure from the cops since they weren't suspects for now. Franks sits up slowly, crawling over to Joey's bed and gently shaking the sleeping forms shoulder.

"Joey." He whispers, eager to tell him the news and see him panic, "Joey, wake up."

Joey grumbles and cracks his eyes open, face barely visible in the dark room. Frank puts on a serious expression, and waits for Joey to sit up and look at the clock.

"What is it?" He asks, sleep and innocence heavy in his voice.

"Cops found the body." Frank replies, managing to keep his tone somber.

An almost palpable chill runs through the room. He watches in fascination Joey's brown eyes widen in panic, his pupils dilating in sheer terror. He can hear him gasp ever so slightly, and wonders if he could hear his heart racing or if that was just his own.

"A-are you serious?" Joey hisses, leaning forward and grabbing Frank's shoulder in a vice. He can feel the other shaking through his hand.

"I wouldn't lie to you about this." Frank replies firmly. Joey curses under his breath, voice starting to shake as he brings his hands up to run over his face. Frank watches him take a few shuddering breaths, keeping a mask of worry and concern on his face.

"Fuck...fuck Frank w-what do we do?" Joey whispers, voice shaking and desperate.

Frank moves off the floor and sits on the bed to rest a comforting hand on Joey's shoulder. Joey looks at him with pleading brown eyes, Frank squeezes slightly and feels him relax.

"We don't do anything. We act surprised, but don't talk about it. Don't draw attention to yourself, don't talk to cops."

He feels Joey tense, and curses himself for obviously saying the wrong thing.

"Fuck Frank I just got fired from that store! He worked there to! Th-they're going to think it's me, Frank!"

Shit. He really hadn't thought about that. The cops surely would make that connection themselves, especially considering that Joey was black. It would be an open and shut case if they got to him. Frank bites his lip and thinks fast.

"Here, here. If the cops come and talk to you, just say you were over at Susie's' with us that night. We'll back up your alibi, and you can pretend to be scared that you're gonna be targeted next." Frank says quickly. They all had an alibi that night, Susie's parents saw them arrive and they would say they stayed there all night.

Joey nods, breath slowing down to a normal rate, "Ok...ok...I can do that. I can do that."

"I know you can." Frank assures him, giving his shoulder another squeeze, "We're gonna be okay."

"Thank you, Frank."

He pulls away, getting off Joey's bed and grabbing his shoes. The clock flashes eleven thirty and he knows Susie would at least be awake.

"Where are you going?" Joey asks, moving to get out of bed. Frank motions for him to sit down.

"I gotta go tell Julie and Susie, they can't find out from someone else. They might panic too much." Frank explains, tying up his shoes and grabbing his jacket off the back of the desk chair along with his overnight bag, "I want them to know the alibi too. In case the cops come round early."

Joey nods, pushing his dreads back and crawling across the bed to open the window. Frank looks out happy to see there were plenty of footprints in the snow to cover his own.

"Frank."

He glances over at Joey, raising his eyebrows.

"Mask down, might look suspicious if the cops see you out after the news broke."

Frank grins, pointing at Joey playfully, "This is why we gotta stick together."

He fishes his mask out of his bag and throws it on, flipping his hood up and bag back on before stepping out the window. He lets his legs dangle before dropping the last couple feet down to the snowy earth. He hears the window close halfway and starts off towards Susie's house. Thankfully she lived only a few houses down the street, while Julie lived an entire neighborhood over. He sticks to the shadows, trying not to run through backyards and look suspicious. It ends up taking ten minutes as opposed to the usual three. He sneaks around the side of her house to her window and taps on the glass four times.

As he waits for her to open the window he catches a movement out of the corner of his eye. He pushes the mask up, squinting into the leafless bushes. It was hard to see out of the peripherals of the mask but he could have sworn-

"Frank?" Susie's voice interrupts his thoughts and he looks up to see her looking down at him curiously, "What's up?"

He turns and starts to hoist himself through the window, Susie backs up and allows him to tumble ungracefully onto the beanbag placed conveniently under the opening for times like these. He sits up reaching back to close the window behind him.

"Julie here?"

"Yeah, she's in the bathroom right now. Why?"

"Bad news." Frank replies, standing and making sure to look adequately concerned and worried.

Susie's face falls, and he can see her mind start to race with dark thoughts. Julie turns into the room, jumping slightly at the sight of him. Her eyes dart between Susie and him, immediately sensing the mood.

"They found the guy, didn't they." Julie says solemnly, closing the door gently behind her.

Susie drops onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears. Julie sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gently comforting her. It was real sweet. He walks over and kneels in front of them, lowering his voice to a comforting murmur.

"Its okay, we're all going to be fine." He says carefully, waiting for Susie to calm down before explaining his plan to them. They react similar to Joey, calming down and smarting up as he talked. Julie stands, motioning for Frank to follow her across the room to give Susie some space to cry.

"Are you going back to Joey's tonight? I don't want him to be alone right now either." She says, glancing over to Susie sitting on the bed with her hands folded in her lap and bouncing her foot.

"Yeah, if he's up I'll sneak back in and walk to school with him tomorrow. You two just try and get some sleep."

Julie nods, crossing her arms over her graphic tee and sighing softly before mumbling, "This is all so fucked."

"You're telling me." They share a smile, and Frank pulls his mask down. He ruffles Susie's hair as he passes, giving her a thumbs up when she looks at him. She smiles sadly, and wishes him goodnight.

He reopens the window, and jumps out landing in the cold snow with a soft crunch. Something other than cold causes him to shudder, and he looks around. The wind ruffles the branches of the pine trees, and the shadows shift lecherously. Slowly he starts walking towards the treeline, squinting into the small forested area and the darkness. Nothing but shadows. Frank turns away, walking back in his own footprints towards the street. He was acting paranoid, he needed to calm way the fuck down. First things first, he needed to get back to Joey's, as much as he wanted to tune into the news and see what the cops knew but he couldn't leave Joey alone yet.

He makes it back to Joey's house in a record six minutes of sneaking through the shadows. Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, but no matter how many times he looked over his shoulder he didn't see a damn thing. Frank climbs up the rain gutter, opening the window the rest of the way and swinging in with practiced ease. He closes the window all the way, pulling the mask off and staring out into the street. He swears he can see something out there. A cop car rolls by and he ducks down. Closing the curtains he looks over to Joey, relieved to see him sound asleep. On his way back to his sleeping bag he tugs Joey's blanket up before laying down and closing his eyes. It was almost one, and these nerds needed to be up early.

\--

The alarm jerks him from sleep and he groans, sitting up and shoving his bag under Joey's bed and stretching. He looks over to the other man yawning, he could see heavy circles under Joey's eyes. Breakfast was going to be a real test for him, but he knows Joey won't crack as easily when given time to prepare. He collects his things while Joey shuffles out to wash his face and get dressed. Frank proceeds to drop down to the ground. As one could imagine, Joey's parents didn't like him too much. He trots around to the front of the house and leans against a tree near the sidewalk. It gives him a good view of Joey's and Susie's house. He shivers slightly, staring up at the cloudy sky above and wondering if it was going to snow again. Wouldn't surprise him this early in the year.

"Love you!" Joey calls behind him as he jumps off his porch and jogs over to Frank. He looks down the street to see Julie and Susie a few houses away.

"Aww thanks." Frank teases, taking the thermos Joey offers and taking a sip. He winces at the bitter taste and passes it back.

Joey flips him off before taking a drink. Julie gives Frank a friendly shoulder punch that actually fucking hurts a lot, and with that the gangs all here. Frank shoves his hands in his pocket, and trails behind a bit to walk next to Susie. He knew Julie was tough and she could put on a brave face. He doubted she'd crack under anything short of torture. Susie on the other hand was a little more delicate, she almost got out their bonding experience.

"Hey Pinky, how you feelin?" Frank asks, keeping his voice down so the others won't notice.

Susie shrugs, shoving her hands into the pockets of her blue hoodie. He watches her bit her lip pensively. He pulls his hand out of his own pocket to gently rub Susie's back in an attempt to comfort her.

"I'm scared, Frank." She finally admits, lisping slightly. She had recently gotten her braces adjusted and was still adjusting, "I don't wanna go to jail."

He understands, Susie was hardly cut out for their petty vandalism let alone murder. But he also knew she would do anything for him, they all would. He had to pressure he enough to keep her demure until this blows over. No cop would suspect or target her, she was just too innocent.

"You're not going to jail," He pauses for effect, "I'm not gonna lie to you, Susie but they're more likely to send you on a Starlight Tour instead of jail."

He feels her stiffen under his hand, and knows he went for a really low blow. He debates doubling down and bringing up Joey's predicament, but decides that the threat of death was more than enough.

"I won't let it happen, Susie. We're in this together." He adds, patting her back a final time before letting his hand fall. Susie lets out a slow breath that fogs up and floats upward.

"Friends forever?" He adds, holding up his arm and showing the bracelet on his wrist. Susie smiles, and brings her hand up to tap her bracelet against his.

"Friends forever."

Frank smiles, and stops before the entrance of the school. He waves, wishing his nerds a good day at school before turning around to head home. He swings by the gas station to swipe a newspaper from the rack and shoplifting a chocolate bar which he eats on his way back. Thankfully Clive was at work when he gets there. His car is gone and the house was empty and silent as usual. Once his door is closed and locked Frank takes a seat on his desk chair and unfolds the paper.

'Body Found At Mount Ormond Resort.'

A grin spreads over Frank's face, and he grabs a pair of scissors from his desk. Carefully he cuts out the section of the newspaper. He wasn't a sentimental guy, but then again he never actually had anything to be sentimental or proud of. Some would argue this was a fucked up or awful thing to be proud of, but he never really was one to give a shit about society as a whole besides blending in. He takes the clipping and digs an old shoe box out from under his bed. He spills the tapes onto his desk and places the clipping gently inside before shoving it back under his bed. Couldn't have the others finding it. As for the rest of the newspaper he dumps it in the kitchen trash can and flips on the TV, immediately changing to the news. He wanted to see his work on TV for himself.


	2. Frank's Mixtape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up my double a fic so ill be able to focus on this one! I have 2 more chapters prewritten and im tryin to stay ahead on it! This ones kinda short but that's ok

It had been roughly four weeks since the cops had found the body, Patrick apparently, and about a month since he had been murdered. Ormond was a small town and news of a murder was still big. Big enough to get a few obnoxious reporters skulking around asking for a scoop. Thankfully no one had caught onto the fact that Joey had just been fired from the same store mere days ago so none of the heat was on them personally, which was a relief.

While the others avoided any sort of whisper or mention of the murder, Frank was relishing in it. As inconspicuous as he could he had been tuning into the local news, and keeping up with the investigation in the papers. His box of clippings had grown to hold at least fifteen or so stories and updates. He was considering putting them in a scrapbook, but that would be very fucking incriminating. Instead he sets the newest clipping into the box, this article was talking about how forensics finally noticed the stab wounds were made by different knives. Talk about moronic, these small town cops couldn't investigate their own hands. Its a wonder any fucking crime got solved. Then again they had been getting away with petty theft and vandalism for years, makes sense these bumbling assholes couldn't solve a murder case as spur of the moment as this. He takes a minute to skim through a few of the articles, relishing in the gorey details before sliding the shoebox under his bed and out of sight.

With that, Frank walks out to the kitchen and grabs the house phone. Dialling Julie's number by memory and jumping up on the counter as it rings.

"Hello?" Julie's mom answers, Frank rolls his eyes. She had to be quicker on getting the phone.

"Is Julie there?" He asks, doing his best imitation of Joey's voice.

"Oh yes! Let me get her!"

He grins, kicking his feet as he listens to Julie's mom yell for her. Honestly, he couldn't blame the gangs parents for not liking him. He was a terrible fucking influence, but you'd think they wouldn't fall for the same trick every time.

"Joey?" The voice on the phone asks.

"It's Frank. Do we really sound that alike?"

He hears Julie sigh and laugh, "Yeah you do. It's really weird, y'know. So whats up?"

"You busy tonight?" Frank asks, sliding off the counter and opening the fridge, empty as always. He closes it and starts pacing the kitchen.

"Hmm no not really, can't hang out long with curfew." She replies, no doubt still in front of her parents.

Curfew was the shittiest part about this mess. Cops instated it at nine sharp 'until they catch the murderer' which won't fucking happen. He and Julie could be out, sure, but Susie and Joey were out of luck.

"Wanted to head up to Mount Ormond tonight, been a while." He says, knowing she would try to back out of it. Silence on the line is his only response.

"I don't know if I-"

"Fine, fine. You can stay at home, me, Joey and Susie will go." He waits, knowing that would get her. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of light from the window. Curiously he walks over and looks out into the side yard only to see it empty as usual. Must've been a car or something.

"Fra- Joey I really can't go out. My aunt is coming over and I don't have time to get there and back." Julie says, actually sounding kinda upset. He decides to let her off the hook this time.

"Alright, I get you. Next week though. Don't miss out." Frank warns before hanging up without letting her respond.

He had already called Joey and Susie and they made excuses too. He figures he can head up to Ormond alone then, it was a bit of a walk without Joey's car but he had a few tapes he wanted to listen to. He trudges back to the counter and before he can hang the phone onto the receiver it rings in his hand. He stares at it for a few moments before accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He says, wondering if Clive would get pissed at him for answering the phone and pissing off his boss.

"Hello?" The voice on the line parrots back. It sounded weird and disjointed for some reason. Bad connection?

"Yes?"

"Who is this?" The voice asks.

Frank leans against the counter, crossing his arms and keeping his tone civial, "Who are you trying to reach?"

"What number is this?"

He frowns, wondering if this was a spam call, "What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know." The voice respondes, first thing they've said that's not a question.

"You've got wrong number then." Frank snaps, getting annoyed at the obvious waste of his time.

"Do I?" The voice asks, dropping their tone to a slimey whisper.

"Yeah, you fuck." He hisses before hanging up. He sets the phone on the receiver. Figures if that was for Clive he'd catch hell later and be done with it. People these days are fucking annoying. It rings again, but he ignores it.

Making a quick stop in his room for his tape player and headphones. Quickly tying his snow boots on and making his way out the door and towards the Ormond Resort. The streets are mostly empty since it was around eight thirty. Curfew was a real fucking buzzkill, there hadn't been any good parties since the police instated it. Murders gotta have some downsides he supposes. As he starts to get out of the suburbs and onto the overgrown road he puts his headphones on, listening to the grinding drums of his favorite songs. He lets out a slow breath and watches the mist float up into the air.

Time seems to fly, and before knows it he's walking past the rundown Chalet and towards a mess of police tape, footprints, and tire tracks surrounding where they buried the body. He hadn't been back here in a while. The gang didn't want to return at all after the incident, and the police had the place on lockdown during the investigation. Frank walks up to the taps, looking down at the shallow grave in the cold frozen ground. Was a real bitch to dig, probably should've buried him deeper.

He takes his headphones off, flipping his tape player off as well. Silence falls around his ears, not even the birds were chirping. The mud seemed almost black as the sun starts to fade away, casting larger and larger shadows over the grave. Mixed emotions swirl in his chest, it makes him feel sick in a strange way. He never felt so odd, so...real. Frank knew he had never been like others, he had a shitty life and would never rise above his station yeah. He was different. He never felt the same as they, other people felt. It was like he wasn't a real person, just a mask that looked real. That acted real. But inside was hollow.

He understood sadness, pain, anger, depression. But did he feel them? Hard to say. He could pretend, he could act sad or angry or happy sure, for a long time he assumed that's how everyone was. Pretending, putting on a mask, reacting was a way of blending in. Like a game.

No, normal people weren't like that. They felt raw, and purely. What he was feeling know, what he felt when he read the papers, be it prais or condemnation for his work, it was still recognition. It was still people looking at him, caring about him, knowing who he was. And it filled him with...something. Pride? Joy? Guilt? Who fucking cares.

It felt good.

He wanted more. He wanted to keep feeling real.

Frank lets out a slow breath. He shivers in the chill of the air, and clutches his hunting knife closer. Damning evidence if ever found, that's for sure. He hears a crunch of snow and turns, eyes darting around quickly. All that greets him is trampled and crushed snow, and a dilapidated building. He shudders, feeling oddly exposed in the open field. Better get to shelter. Slowly he makes his way towards the Chalet, climbing the creaking staircase to the legion mural at the top. He sits under it and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a drag. As much as he loved the rest of the gang, he doubted they could ever truly understand what he was feeling. Or how monumental the fact that he could even feel was. He did know one thing about them, however.

They felt guilt.

But that wasn't his fucking problem, eh?

\---

He wakes up to the sound of footsteps crunching on half melted snow. Frank immediately springs to his feet, quietly walking over to the broken banister and jumping down to the first floor. He creeps over to a window and peeks out, relieved to see a familiar figure in the morning light.

"Joey!" He calls from the window. The man turns around, and a smile lights his face.

"Hey Frank. Thought you'd be here." Joey greets, walking over to the window and hoisting himself up onto the windowsill, "You been here all night?"

Frank shrugs, guilty as charged. He tried to stay out of the house often, and in reality he could sleep pretty much anywhere if he set his mind to it. Though it was probably dangerous to be sleeping in an old abandoned Chalet that could collapse at any moment next to a self made trash can fire for warmth. That's not even considering randos that could find him. He watches Joey's gaze drift over to the police tape, much less menacing in the daylight.

"Sorry...I just couldn't come here. Not so...soon." Joey admits, crossing his arms, "Woke up today, thought fuck school, came up to find you."

Frank grins, reaching out to punch Joey's shoulder. Joey was the first to take his stab, and the first to come back up here. He knew the girls would come around in time, but he can always count on Joey to have his back.

"Wanna fuck around?" Frank asks, knowing the answer as soon as Joey opens his bag to reveal a few cans of spray paint and Frank's mask.

"Let's go." Joey says, pulling his mask up. Frank grabs his mask and a can of paint, pulling the familiar plastic over his head and flipping his hood up to cover his hair.

They make their way to the small cottage further uphill and start tagging over old sprays. Mostly he watches Joey work on the mural he had going on the specific wall. Mostly bright blues against blacks and reds. Swirls of colors and darkness. He was a big fan, but Joey never seemed satisfied with it. Frank stuck to painting his trademark smiley face on a small corner. A few hours of lazy conversation pass before Julie finally shows up. Mask down and spray can in hand. Frank greets her with a wave.

"Hey Jules."

"Bonjour, boys. My aunt is so fucking bitchy." Julie says with a massive sigh of endless annoyance. She goes right up to Joey and starts adding to his swirls.

"She the one from Montreal?" Joey asks.

"Mmhmm."

"Awful." Frank adds. He hated Julie's family.

There's a small knock at the doorway, and all three turn to see Susie standing at the entrance.

"Hey Pinky." Frank says and she relaxes, happy to be forgiven for skipping out on him.

Having the gang back together at Mount Ormond was great. They spent most of the afternoon painting shitty murals on the walls and throwing rocks at glass bottles before driving back to town to enjoy and late lunch at Tim's. The feeling of normalcy was comforting, now they would stop being wet blankets about the whole murder thing. Although he knows in the back of his mind that since they're moving on the rest of the town will soon. Leaving him, and the janitor to to yesterday's news. He knows that when the articles and gossip stops coming, he's going to have to do something about it. Something drastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No gf yet but he's on his way i promise :3c


	3. Detailed Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually try to keep 2 chapters ahead of updates but thid ones real good amd the next ones also good ;)

'The Ghostface Killer Strikes Again At Ormond.'

Frank reads again as he carefully cuts the article out of the paper. He tapes it to the collage of many like it on his wall, his ever growing investigation. The news moved on all right. It moved right to the fucking Ghostface. Truth be told he didn't know anything about the person before they struck. News of the Mount Ormond killing was already dying down, which sucked but he expected it, and when the cops found Mr. Madden stabbed to death in his home a new can of worms opened. The only evidence on the scene was from Mr. Madden's digital camera. A picture of a figure cloaked in black in a stark white mask standing in Mr. Madden's bedroom. It was obviously taken by the killer themselves, and the news went crazy.

The Ghostface was apparently well known in the states. A killing streak from Philly to Florida, at least that's what the papers claimed. Fine, fine, lots of sick fucks that stalk and kill people out there. Frank understood that, kind of. The killing part at least, not really the stalking stuff but that was neither here nor there. No, what really pissed him off about this Ghostface business was all the stupid cops, dumb ass vulture journalist, and brainless townies thinking that Ghostface was behind the Mount Ormond murders. To see his hard fucking work credited to that American was annoying as hell, though he couldn't be mad at the person. It was the cops fault for being too stupid to realize the killing were unrelated.

That being said, he had some dots to connect. He looks over the new story, another victim was found dead in their home. This would make Ghostface's second this month and third overall. There was roughly a two week gap between killings, it wasn't a perfect fourteen days but enough to make a general average. And unlike the cops he was excluding his work, as not to skew his findings. All the victims were found dead in their homes, one and two had no signs of forced entry besides phone lines being cut but victim three was found with an open window on the second story. The articles didn't mention anything being stolen, but maybe that was the police doing their job. The press had been doing their best at getting information from those morons .

The doorbell sounds from the front room, pulling him out of his thoughts instantly. He jogs out of his room, sliding the last few feet on his socks to the door, it was probably Julie. When he opens it however, the porch is empty. A quick glance up and down the streets shows no obvious culprit. With a shrug he closes the door and starts to walk back to his room, only making past the garage door until the doorbell rings again. Thank god Clive is at work or he'd be throwing a fit over all this noise.

Frank spins around and marches back to the door, yanking it open to see a familiar sight of fuck all. He debates stepping out and looking around, but decides not too there was still snow on the ground and he wasn't wearing shoes and would rather die than get his socks wet. He lets the door close with a soft click. Standing with his hand on the knob and waiting a few moments, listening carefully for any footsteps.

The phone rings, causing him to jump in surprise. He walks over to it in annoyance, grabbing the phone off the receiver as if it were the thing knocking on the door. Before he can accept the call however, it stops ringing.

"Are you fucking-" A fist pounds heavily on the front door. So suddenly Frank drops the phone in surprise. It clatters to the ground causing the battery pack falling out and slide across the tiled floor.

"Fuck!" He growls in frustration, grabbing the battery off the floor and shoving it back into the phone as he stomps to the door. He practically rips the thing off its hinges opening it.

Sitting on the welcome mat was his basketball. He stares at it, then looks up and down the street again. No one. Frank steps out onto the porch despite the cold and walks over to look around the sides of his house. He can't see anyone, and there's no fresh footsteps in the snowy patches. He scoops his ball off the porch and closes the door, immediately turning the lock as well.

The phone rings, vibrations flow menacingly up his fingers. He accepts the call, and puts the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He asks. A long silence follows, and with a shrug he ends the call. Before he can even move the phone away from his ear it rings again.

"I’m sorry," The voice on the line says, "I guess I dialed the wrong number."

Frank frowns, the voice didn't sound like the one from a few days ago, "So why’d you dial it again?"

"To apologize." The voice says in a weird low buzzy whisper. It makes Frank's skin crawl.

"Sure. Bye now."

"Wait! Wait! Don’t hang up!" The voice says quickly. Frank lets out an annoyed huff and pulls away from the door.

"What?" He snaps, walking to his room to throw his basketball in.

"I want to talk to you for a second." The voice replies. Static buzzes over the line, almost drowning out the other person.

"They’ve got 900 numbers for that." Frank deadpans before hanging up. Immediately the phone rings again, and Frank rips the battery pack out. Fuck that freak.

He sets the phone on the counter, them goes through every room the small house and locking the windows along with the back door. Finally when he returns to his room to lock his window, he closes the blinds. His ball had been locked in the garage. He always threw it in there when he was done.

Some had been in the house.

\----

"I think I'm being stalked." Frank says, spinning to face Joey and skate backwards.

"Really now?" Joey replies, conveying both disinterest and disbelief in two simple words.

"Yes, really."

"Are you still bitching about that basketball prank?" Susie asks, skating up next to Joey.

"Just because it happened on April fools doesn't mean it was a prank!" Frank snaps defensively. Three days later and the event was still on his mind. He hated to admit how much it skeeved him out, and how every time the phone rang he flinched. Not that he told the others about the actual conversation. That part was a little too personal.

"Mmmhmm." Joey replies, "On your right."

Frank skates to the left, narrowly avoiding a small child. He shoves his hands into his varsity jacket and huffs, annoyed that they didn't believe him. Although it was a very outlandish thing to claim as a twenty year old piece of shit no life drop out after a mildly unfunny prank.

"Do you think it's g-g-g-ghostface?" Susie coos mockingly, sliding out of the way of Frank's wayward fist.

"No, shut up."

Joey snorts, skating past Frank and out of sight. He hears the blades spin on the ice before two cold hands grab his shoulders, and Joey drops his voice into a mocking baritone.

"Hey Franky it's me, Ghostface. You smell better when you're awake."

Frank attempts to jab his elbow into Joey's ribcage, but the larger man slides away from him easily. Circling around him into view.

"Amature Detective Morrison gets dunked on by Ghostface killer, absolutely destroyed in a game of B-Ball. Detective Morrison retires in shame. He's just too good on the court!" Susie mocks circling him just out of reach like an annoying pink news announcer.

Knowing he would never be able to catch her, and attempting to would get them kicked out again, Frank settles on glaring daggers at Susie and Joey as they circle him like annoying vultures. Making jabs at his perfectly concealed obsession with the local serial killer. God he wishes he taught them some fucking manners.

"Shut the fuck up." He snaps deciding to put an end to the vicious mockery of his actual worries, "Or I'll fucking kill you."

He knows that was a little to far when the cheery mood drops to an arctic chill. Joey clears his throat and Susie immediately stops circling him. Instead shoving her hands in her pockets and looking down. With a huff Frank turns towards the nearby exit and rams right into Julie, still decked out in her hockey gear. He bounces right off her and almost falls to the ice, only saved by her grabbing the lapels of his varsity jacket. He looks into the eyes of the mask and smiles awkwardly as he attempts to catch his balance.

"Hey Jules."

"Don't be a bitch." She replies, releasing him and turning the mask to Susie and Joey, "And you two be nice. Franky is sensitive since his prank."

He skates past her, not stupid enough to attempt a shoulder check as she pulls the mask off and fluffs her bright orange hair. Awkwardly walking to the change area and pulling his skates off and shoes on. Susie and Joey file in after him, silently changing into their shoes and waiting for Julie to get out of her gear and join them.

"I'm sorry Frank." Susie says, looking around the room to make sure no one else was near, "I-I guess I'd be a little freaked out if that happened to me. Especially with the m-murderers and all." She continues, not meeting his eyes and instead lacing up her shoes with utmost care.

"Yeah me too. I it is pretty freaky to have that sorta thing happen," Joey adds, jumping on the apology train, "But I think it really was just a prank. Nobody fucks with us, eh?"

That causes a small smile to grace his lips. Joey did have a point. He wasn't freaking out over nothing, but it's not like anyone could pose a threat to him.

"Nobody fucks with us." Frank repeats, causing the two to relax as Julie finally returns with her practice bag on her shoulder. He stands, and they all head out towards Joey's truck. The only rink was a town away, and Joey was happy to drive Julie and the rest over on practice days to skate for a few hours.

"If you're still worried about the guy you can always stay over at my place." Julie offers, tossing her bag in the back before squeezing into the middle seat. Susie awkwardly sits on her lap as Frank slides in and slams the door.

"Nah I'm fine. If anyone breaks in well...their funeral, eh?"

A chill runs over the cabin that's quickly dissipated as Joey starts his mixtape. He listens to the three make small talk as his mind drifts away to its usual topics. Ghostface and the janitor. He remembers the thrill of it all, the stabbing, the warm blood on his hand, hell even forcing the others to do it. The way his heart didn't stop racing, not when they shovels hit the mud, or when they patted down the dirt, or even as the blood washed down the drain and he put his clothes in a cold wash. The feeling was growing more and more distant, however. Coldness setting in instead of warmth. He hated it, the loss of his newly acquired emotion.

And there was only one way to get it back.

"Frank?"

"Hmm?" He looks over at Julie curiously.

"What do you want from McDonald's?"

He looks past her to the menu and shrugs, "Get me a poutine and...coffee."

"What's on your mind?" Julie asks, always the first to notice when he was getting lost in his thoughts.

"Stuff."

"What...stuff?" She presses, passing him his food and drink. He takes a sip of coffee and shrugs.

"Current events."

Julie nods knowingly, shifting Susie on her lap to lean in closer and pat his shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't dwell on it."

He nods, turning to look back out the window and absently eats his food. Joey drops him off first, and he's touched when the truck idls outside until he closes and locks the door. Not touched enough to stay inside safe and warm. Instead he walks through the house and right out the back door. It's not like he was trying to tempt fate or anything, he was restless. When he got like this sleep never came easy so he might as well go for a walk at eleven with a serial killer on the loose. He hops the shitty chain fence and takes a back path through a wooded area before emerging a street over from his house. That way Joey wouldn't just so happen to cruise by after dropping Susie off and pick him up like a stray dog.

Speaking of strays, he hears a familiar yipping and looks over to see the neighborhoods local rude old bitches dog. A small yappy poodle he actually kinda liked. The dog was sitting by the open gate to her house and wagging his tail excitedly. Which was odd because she never left him out this late, especially in the chill. Frank kneels down and gently scratches the dog behind the ear.

"What're doin' out here bud?"

The dog replies by trotting up the walkway a few paces and stopping, looking back at Frank expectantly. Maybe he wanted back inside? He looks up to the house to see the door itself was slightly ajar. Weird, maybe she forgot to close it all the way?

Frank stands and follows the dog up the walkway to the porch. Surely she wouldn't get pissey at him for letting her dog in. It's not like she ever found out he was the one who shattered her window with a stone six months ago on a dare. He pushes the door open and the dog trots right in, beelining to a side room and barking up a storm. Frank's just about to close the door when the dogs barks turn to growls. He hesitates momentarily, just long enough to decide if he was going in to check on the dog or the shitty old bitch, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. He really liked that dog.

The house is like a graveyard, silent and somber. The dog had stopped barking, but he could hear a soft crunching noise along with some barely audible rustling noises. Franks hand strays to the inner pocket of his jacket to clutch the handle of his hunting knife. He steps slowly and carefully, trying not to make any noise. Just as birds predict tornadoes, he knew there was something dangerous in this house with him.

He hears a thumping noise, like a hand hitting a pillow, and a muffled whimper. Sweat collects at his palms and he can hear his heart throbbing in his ears, can feel the beat pulsing through his body. Frank rounds the corner and looks into the room.

The dog is hunched over his food bowl, feasting on a pretty good looking roast that certainly wasn't meant for dogs. Frank's eyes trail past the kitchen table and to the figure of the owner. She's tied to a chair, one of the four pulled from the dining table, with thick heavy black ropes. Makeup streams down her face, mingling with tears as her pleading eyes turn to him. Hope lights the blackness of her pupil, and is immediately snuffed out by the large utility knife that sinks into the top of her head with a wet slicing noise. Similar to cutting a watermelon. He watches in near rapture as her face becomes slack, mouth sagging around her gag and eyes fading to a pale glassy stare as the final breath barely escapes her covered mouth.

Oh he really missed that sight. Fucking incredible.

The knife slides out of the corpses head, and Frank realizes he has bigger problems on his hands as the black cloaked figure turns around to look at him. The figure raises the knife, gingerly taking the dripping blade between two gloved fingers and wiping it clean. The black downturned eyes seem to bore into Frank's own, and he wonders what to say in this situation.

Hi Mr. or Ms. Ghostface, sorry to interrupt but I'm a big fan of your work. Can you not kill me tonight?

Ghostface takes a step forward, and Frank darts to the left. The move seems too surprise the figure long enough for him to move far enough around the dining room table, effectively making a barrier between him and the killer. He had to start talking. If he had one skill it was his ability to talk his way out of this shit.

"Wait! Wait! Don't kill me." Frank says quickly, and with an air of sterness he didn't quite expect.

Ghostface stares at him from across the table, and they lower their knife ever so slightly and tilt their head. Frank had to say his piece fast or die.

"I won't call the cops. Hell I can't, because you cut the phone line." Frank says carefully, watching the figure for any sign of movement. It had been in the papers that the victims phone lines were cut in almost all cases. It was safe to assume they were out right now, since this was an older lady she'd have an older-

Ghostface raises a hand to the wall phone and lifts the receiver. Frank can hear the dial tone from across the room, and feels panic creep into mind for the first time. Ghostface sets the phone back on the receiver, and silence returns to the room. Slowly Ghostface steps to the left, and Frank sidesteps to the right. He had to keep the table between them. It was that or a taste of his own medicine.

"You're gonna call the cops on yourself, eh? Wanna watch them find the body from across the street, listen to them talk about you."

That seems to strike a nerve of sorts as the figure stiffens, and their grip on the hunting knife tightens. Found a weak spot, didn't he?

"You took that photo in Maddens bedroom to get it printed. It's all over the papers! What were you gonna say to the cops? You gonna give them a head line yourself or-"

Ghostface lunges forward. Sliding over the table, moving like liquid shadow. Frank barely has time to react as the warm leather glove grabs him by the throat and forces him back. His lower back hits the corner of the counter and his head slams into the cabinet behind him. Pain blossoms in his head instantly but he pushes through it to grab at Ghostface's wrist, pausing only when he feels the knife press against side. From what he remembers of that textbook page about stab wounds it was aimed at his liver. He watches the white mask tilt thoughtfully, and knows he's running out of time. Ghostface starts to squeeze, cutting off his air supply and crushing his throat.

"I know what you feel. Wanting to be in the paper- in the news." He chokes out through the vice grip on his throat, "I killed someone too."

That causes the grip on his throat to loosen, and he takes in a deep breath. He glances at the counter and sees a paper from almost a month ago, lucky him. He points at it, causing Ghostface to turn and look.

"I did that. Patrick Doe was found on the resort three weeks after I killed him. Was in the paper for months before you showed up. They're crediting you for it, but your international body count is only three- well four now."

The mask turns back to him, and Frank knows he's almost out.

"You got at least fifteen in the states, and I don't doubt that number. You want the bodies to be found, you want the media to know you're better than them, because you are." Frank continues, and as he talks the hand at his throat slides down his chest at the compliments.

That's a little weird, but hey to each their own. The gloved hand slips into his jacket and pulls his hunting knife out of the inner pocket. He meets the down turned eyes of the mask, and forces a small relaxed smile.

"At least take me out to dinner first."

Ghostface lets out a small laugh, and Frank's almost relieved to find they were a man from how deep the voice was. The laugh dies almost as soon as he hears it, and Ghostface steps back. Frank watches him sheath his knife in the holster on his belt before he spins Frank's knife a few times. Examining it closely, and obviously not planning on giving it back as he turns. Ghostface raises a hand and gestures for Frank to follow.

Weird, but okay. Better than getting stabbed. Frank trails behind the black figure. He moves with impressive silence, heavy boots barely making a noise on the floor compared to Frank's loud steps. Ghostface opens the back door, stepping aside and waving Frank out. He stares at the mask, feeling as if he was going to get his own knife in the back the moment he walked outside. He stares at the man suspiciously as he steps past him and onto the back porch, turning to face him as soon as he clears the doorway.

Ghostface closes the door, and turns the lock. He raises a finger to the screaming mouth of the mask in a universal shushing gesture, then makes a shooing motion with the hand clutching his knife.

"Don't hurt the dog." Is all he can think before turning and walking home. He takes the back way, moving carefully as not to be seen. That wouldn't look very good to the cops.

By the time he gets home Clive is already watching the breaking news of the most recent murder from Ghostface. He avoids being spotted and closes the door to his room, sliding down the cheap wood and landing heavily on the floor.

He just fucking saw the Ghostface and lived. A person was killed in front of his eyes, and all he could dregs up in terms of emotion was elation. Like an itch that was scratched, like an addict getting a hit. Frank could feel his pulse in the veins of his wrists, and he lets out a slow breath. It wasn't the same as killing someone with his own hands, as feeling the blood on his flesh as it cooled. No, it wasn't nearly as exhilarating as that. But it was good enough.

There's a knock on his door and he jumps to his feet, cracking it open to see Clive. He tries to look casual.

"Yeah?"

"Jesus Frank look like you saw a fuckin' ghost. Makin' sure you're ok...'nother person got kilt."

He tries not to roll his eyes, Clive was just making sure his whiskey budget was still around.

"I'm fine."

He nods and stumbles back towards the living room. Frank closes the door and sighs in relief. A cold breeze brushes his legs, and he turns to see his window wide open, and his knife sitting innocently on the sill. Frank slowly approaches, picking the blade up and seeing a folded slip of paper torn from a small spiral notebook had been placed under it. He unfolds it to reveal a few lines carefully written in blue ink.

'Nice meeting you, Franky. Are you free next Saturday? Love to see you again. XOXO

\- Ghostface'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops party poppper* ghostface is here!! *is immediately killed by shadow ghostface*


	4. Cheap Cologne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive been watching scream 2-4 and they're great

Frank tapes the most recent article up on his wall, right next to the highly incrimination note. He rereads it for the umpteenth time and feels a smile tug at his lips. It was weird to look up to someone, even weirder to have the person he looked up to acknowledge him. I'm fact, he couldn't think of a single person that had ever inspired him aside from Ghostface.

Then again role models for murderers aren't exactly celebrated.

He steps away from the growing collage above his desk and grabs his jacket from the bed. The alarm clock was showing six and he had to walk the rest of them to school. Julie owed him a coffee and he wasn't about to let her get away without feeding him. So he makes sure to move quickly to their usual meeting point. Joey and Susie lived on the same street, while he was a street over from them. Julie usually took the long way just to meet up with them at the end of the block near the Time since she lived in the richer neighborhood's.

Speaking of, he can already see her bright orange hair from halfway down the street. She's sitting on a bench, sipping from her own cup with three more sitting next to her. Frank raises a hand in greeting and she waves back as he takes a seat next to the cups.

"Which is mine?" He asks, hands hovering over the three nondescript cups.

"Guess." Julie replies.

Frank frowns, staring at the identical cups before gingerly picking up a cup and taking a sip. Julie snorts at his disgusted expression and he sets the cup down, immediately pick up another in an attempt to wash the bitter black coffee taste out of his mouth with a double-double.

"You are such a baby, Frank."

"Fuck you." He shoots back.

"All that sugar will rot your teeth. You'll get braces like Susie."

He didn't give a shit of all his teeth rotted out of his gums, he'd rather die than drink plain coffee like those two masochists.

"I'll have you know I inherited perfect teeth from my crackhead mother."

He watches Julie roll her eyes, and before she can reply her eyes drift past him and light up. Looking behind him reveals Joey and Susie approaching, putting an end to all the talk of teeth. Susie was sensitive after all.

"Morning!" Susie calls, walking up and taking a cup. She pops the lid off to examine the liquid before passing it to Joey. A much more effective way of finding the correct drink compared to his Russian roulette style.

"Mornin'." Frank replies, leaning back on the bench and taking up as much room as possible. Joey looks down at him with barely veiled disgust. Frank raises his eyebrows.

"Move or be moved."

"You guys hear somethin'?" Frank asks as he sips his coffee innocently.

Joey snorts and shakes his head, stooping to pick up his cup and take a sip. Not rising to Frank's bait for once. Frank peeks at Joey's watch while he grabs the cup and figures he better corral his legion to school.

"C'mon nerds, you have learning to do." He announces, standing a shooing the three towards the building. They had a skip day planned next week, which meant good behavior this week.

"Oh hey so get this," Julie starts, taking the lead as they walk in a semi triangle, "Y'know that lady that was murdered Tuesday? Apparently she was my moms, friends, aunt and she left her dog to my moms friend and that bitch totally lumped it on us!"

"Oh that cute little poodle?" Susie asks excitedly, "What's his name?"

"Bon-Bon. He's really sweet and all but man...having him around is weird. And mom won't let me throw any parties until he gets settled which blows."

"Oh shit did he like...see the murder?" Joey asks.

"Oooh yeah didn't Ghostface like feed him that ladies dinner or something?"

Frank sips his coffee, and hides a grin. There was a certain je ne sais quoi to knowing almost exactly what happened. The others hadn't tried talking about Ghostface in front of him since the night at the rink, and coincidentally the night of the murder. Joey had called him that morning to make sure he was okay since the victims house was only a street away, then not a peep.

"Did you see in the paper that Ghostface called the cops on himself." Frank adds, swirling his coffee before taking a sip.

"I know! Americans are so weird." Susie replies, then shakes her head, "We really shouldn't be talking so casually though. I mean another person did die. It's...not a joke.." Her voice trails off, and a momentary silence falls over the three.

"Are you still coming over tomorrow?" Joey asks, turning to look back at him and break the sudden tension.

"Nah, I'm busy. Somethin' came up." Frank replies just as the warning bell rings. He waves the three off before making his way over to their usual picnic table and sitting on the top.

He watches the students drift into the school. Once all the teachers are gone he pulls a cigarette from his pack, lighting it up and wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do about that little note on his window. It had to be from Ghostface. There was no way the knife wasn't his, and if it was an extended prank by the others well...that's another can of worms. What was really pressing Frank's mind was where exactly he was supposed to meet Ghostface. They guy didn't exactly leave his phone number or a location. Not that he could blame him, Frank could always call the cops on the guy and set up a sting.

"Excuse me, Sir! Do you have a moment?"

Frank looks to his left to see a man approaching. He was wearing a thick looking black jacket and a red scarf to top it off. Looped around one shoulder was an expensive looking camera, and the other was a shoulder bag. Definitely not a local dressed liked that.

"No."

"Great!" The man says, flashing him what is probably supposed to be a friendly smile. Frank squints at him suspiciously.

"My names Jed Olsen, I was transferred here from Calgary to do some reporting on the Ghostface case a few days ago, are you a local?" The man asks, stopping to stand at the end of the picnic table and shiver.

"What paper you workin' for?" Frank asks, turning away from Jed and exhaling a cloud of smoke. The guy had the most obvious American accent he had ever heard.

"Calgary Sun."

"Then fuck off." Frank snaps. He had been hoping to catch the nosey fuck in a lie, most of the reporters around here claimed to be from nearby when they were just shit heads from Hogtown. He glances over to man again, looking him up and down with a frown. At least he was kinda hot, might be worth it to talk to him just to get his number.

"If I could just ask a few questions I would really appreciate it!" The man presses, Frank could practically hear his teeth chattering and it was barely minus six. Unfortunately the man took his continued silence and icy glare as a yes.

"Are you familiar with the store Slope Stop?" Jed asks as he puts on a pair of round dorky glasses and pulls out a small notebook and pen.

"Sure." Frank replies with a shrug, thats where he committed his first murder, he was pretty fucking familiar with it. Knew where all the camera blindspots were too.

"Did you ever speak with Patrick Doe? The late janitor of the establishment."

"No."

He watches the man scribble a few notes and turn the page. This was a waste of his fucking time.

"Look ass-"

"Do you know a man by the name of Jérémy Prescott?"

Frank's words die in his throat. He really didn't like the way that question was thrown out. He said it so casually, without any real interest or feeling. Then again it wasn't too much of a stretch to talk to previous employees.

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" Frank asks, fighting to keep his voice steady. No need getting worked up over this. No pressure yet.

Jed looks up and smiles another infuriating little holier than thou smile and adjusts his glasses, "Well since I'm looking into Ghostface's murders it only makes sense to investigate the first victim. I have noticed that Mr. Doe's death is very...odd."

Frank continues to glare at him and the man speaks on unabated. Any pretense of taking notes forgotten as he starts to gesticulate with his hand.

"You see I've been following the Ghostface for quite a while, and I've gotten a pretty good feel for his M.O. That's why I was sent here, mind you. The most interesting thing about Mr. Doe's case is that the body was moved. In all of the known Ghostface killings the bodies are left on the scene. It's just so...outlandishly juvenile for Ghostfa-"

"Shut the fuck up." Frank interrupts, deciding he's had enough of talking to reporters. He stubs the cigarette out on the table and slides off, grabbing his coffee and turning to face Jed, "Why don't you fuck off back to Cowtown, eh? This town doesn't need anymore vultures like you."

"Oh I'm sorry, Frank. I really didn't mean to offend you. I'm just doing my job." Jed apologizes, sounding almost sincere. Frank sips his coffee and walks past him. He has the decency to not shoulder check the man, instead dutifully ignoring the following footsteps.

"Are you close with Mr. Prescott by the way? I was wondering if you would be able to put me in contact with-"

"No."

"No you're not close, or no you won't pass my number onto-"

Frank whirls around and looks up at Jed with murder on his mind. The man stops only a few inches away from him. He tilts his head curiously and opens his mouth to speak. This freak really never shut his fucking mouth, huh?

"Here, before you go, this is my business card. The number is to my office, which I'm not at, so if you have anything of interest to say call the number on the back to my hotel room. I don't have a mobile phone."

He looks down at the outstretched card, and up at the placid smile on Jed's face. Wordlessly he pops the lid off his coffee cup and dumps the still hot liquid directly onto the fuckers hand. Jed lets out a yelp and jumps back, shaking his steaming hand and splashing coffee everywhere.

"You ever try and speak to me or even  _ look _ at Joey you're a fucking dead man, Jed." Frank hisses, dropping the cup and turning away. He raises two middle fingers over his shoulders, and hopes that's good enough display of Canadian hospitality for that piece of shit.

If he had turned around, he might have seen a familiar look in Jed's eyes and the twisted smile on his face.

\---

"You're late, Franky."

"Who gives a fuck?" Frank replies, pulling the seat behind the counter out and flopping down. He kicks his muddy sneakers up on the counter and leans back, "You can go now."

His boss flips him off and stalks out the door, "I'll be back in four hours."

To say Frank was employed at the two store strong chain of survival equipment retailers lovingly dubbed Bass Professional Store, was a gross misuse of the word. He showed up once a week at best, got a schedule from his boss that usual consisted of three shifts barely totaling fourteen hours, and he stole from the register every other month. Although he was mostly sure whatever he took from the register was factored into his paycheck anyway. He reaches under the counter and grabs the training butterfly knife the other employee kept around and starts idly spinning it. He sees a note taped to tbe register and squints to read it.

'Police want us to make notes of anyone buying ropes, knives, plastic sheets. Ghostface case.'

Frank rolls his eyes, attempting a knife trick only to utterly fail. He drops the knife onto the counter and figures that since he's here he might as well change his bandages. He rolls the chair over to the employee bathroom and closes the door before pulling out the first aid kit. He unrolls his old bandages, dropping them in the trash can and takes the time to wash and dry his hands before applying the burn ointment to the back of his hands before wrapping them up tightly. He barely finishes knotting the bandages when the service bell starts ringing like crazy.

He opens the door and is surprised to see Julie leaning on the counter casually. Frank grins and walks over to his side of the counter and puts on his customer service voice.

"Fuck you want." Then he adds, "Why aren't you in school?"

"Oh you're not gonna believe this one." Julie replies, reaching over the counter to grab the butterfly knife and spinning it with much more skill than Frank had.

"What? Football Coach finally get caught fucking the sophomores?"

"Nah. Ghostface called the school." Julie replies, immediately catching Frank's attention.

"Whoa, what? You serious??" Frank grins, what a fucking move, "What he say?"

Julie spins the fake knife, pointing the dull blade at Frank, "Teachers won't tell us, let us out early with barely any explanation. Buuut, student aide claims she heard the whooole conversation from the office."

Frank takes the knife and flips it closed, dropping it back to its spot under the desk, "Don't keep me in fuckin' suspense Jules."

She laughs and pushes off the counter, turning and leaning back against it, "So she said he said," Julie clears her throat and drops her voice a few octaves.

"The night assists me, and its endless up here."

He blinks, staring at the back of Julie's head. That was...odd. He had expected something a little less...poetic? Something along the lines of "I'll slit all these kid's throats."

"Huh." Is all he says.

"I know. Think its a message or something?"

A chill runs up Frank's spine. It was a message, one just for him. A strange emotion runs through his body and he shudders. That's a new one, a real new one. He wonders what it's supposed to be.

"For the cops?"

Julie turns around grins at him, "Maybe it's for you." She coos.

"Ma'am i'm going to have to ask you to leave." Frank deadpans. It causes her to snort, which quickly delves into a laugh. She pushes off the counter and starts towards the door.

"I'm just playin' Franky. See you when you get out." Julie says with a wave. He waves back weakly before sitting heavily in the chair.

The night assists me, and its endless up here.

That had to be for him, there was no way it  _ wasn't _ for him. It was Ghostface trying to tell him where to meet up. Obviously at night, but location wise? Frank frowns and lets his eyes drift around the room. They land on a faded poster from at least thirty years ago.

'Mt. Ormond Resort. See the northern lights from the highest peak.'

Of fucking course Ghostface wanted to meet him where he hid the body he claimed to have murdered. If the papers had any truths in their lines, Ghostface was one hell of a showoff. He kicks his feet up again as another thought crosses his mind in a flash.

The night assists me.

Frank wonders if that part of the was referring to him. Again he feels that same rush through his veins. It made his stomach twist in an unfamiliar way. He was sure this wasn't fear, or anger, or even hatred. Maybe...joy? No, no this wasn't that. Either way it was interesting.

\---

He sneaks out his window promptly at eleven. Due to the call at School curfew had been changed to eight thirty, which was a real fucking drag. He pulls his hood up and mask down, making his way up the back paths towards the old Ormond trail. A few police cruisers roll by but none actually spot him through the leaves. Eventually he's far enough up the trail to be out of the patrol zone and takes to walking in the middle of the familiar overgrown road to Ormond. It's very peaceful out here. Silence amongst the trees, a hoot of an owl here are there and a wolf howl. Frank tilts his head up to watch the sickly pulsing green lights of the Aurora Borealis. It was fading out this time of year, almost a yellow dull glow than it's usual neon. He couldn't help but think that the sky itself looked sick.

Frank steps over the string of police tape and past the Chalet, instead making his way to the cottage. He listens carefully to the night in an attempt to find Ghostface before he finds him, but he can't hear anything out of the ordinary as he climbs the rickety cottage steps. Beelining towards the balcony. He steps out of the doorway back into fresh air, and a hand grabs his arm in a crushing grip. He curses jerking away from the painful grip as best he can and dragging Ghostface into the light of the sickly green sky. Immediately the grip relaxes on his arm and Ghostface tilts his head curiously.

"What?"

Ghostface's freehand grips the bottom of his mask, tipping it up to reveal his face. Frank shivers at the sudden influx of cold air on his face and glares at the man.

"You next." He demands.

He hears a small huff from under the mask and a slight shake of his shoulders. Ghostface raises a single finger and wags a condescending no. Rage spikes, and Frank's vision goes red. His hand darts forward towards Ghostface's mask, fingers barely brushing the cheap plastic before the killer grabs him by the throat and slams his head into the wall of the cottage. Stars dance over his eyes and he lets out a groan of pain, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his bearings. He feels a cool body press against him and faintly hears the soft sound of breathing.

Frank opens his eyes and stares into the black mesh of the downturned eyes. The hand on Frank's arm had moved away, pressing against the wall and blocking him from the doorway. Ghostface's other hand rests on his throat, he can feel the thumb tracing the outline of his skull tattoo and swallows nervously. They stand in absolute silence, only their quiet breaths break the shadows of the night.

"I won't touch it." Frank finally capitulates. This shit wouldn't get him anywhere. There's a reason Ghostface had evaded capture so long and it sure as shit wasn't by showing his face to every person that asked.

The man nods and steps back. He notices absences of Ghostface's minimal warmth almost immediately, and doesn't enjoy the flicker of emotion it inspires.

"Fuck are we doin' out here, eh? If you were just planin' on standing around I would've brought a mickey."

Ghostface leans against the surprisingly sturdy railing and all but leers at him through the black eyeholes. Then he reaches into an inner pocket of his coat to retrieve a small red colored spiral notebook and cheap blue pen. Must be the same one he had used to write the message to him a few days ago. Ghostface uncaps the pen and starts carefully writing. Frank makes a mental note that the man is right handed. He rips the paper from the notebook and holds it out to Frank in a shaking hand. Actually if he listened closely he could hear the others teeth chattering. Wasn't the guy from like... California or somewhere warm? He had thick jackets on but if he wasn't used to the cold it must me bugging him.

"Do you wanna borrow my jacket?" He asks, taking the note from the man. A few seconds pass before Ghostface begrudgingly nods.

Frank shrugs his varsity jacket off and passes it to Ghostface. Thankfully he wore his long sleeve shirt under so he won't freeze to death. He looks down at the note and snorts.

'Can you make a fire?' In neat blue writing.

"Sure buddy, can't have you catching hypothermia, eh?" Frank teases, walking past Ghostface to drag the burn barrel everyone generally used for parties closer. He pops the top off and is happy to see the last party left a good amount of wood inside, it was dry and ready to burn.

"Lighters in my left pocket." Frank says, holding out his hand expectantly. The lighter is dropped into his hand moments later. He sets fire to the paper and uses it to light the kindling.

"I'm sure you don't want me holding onto the notes, right?"

Silence is his response, the crackling of a fire filling in the gaps of their conversation. He looks up to see Ghostface sidle up to fire gratefully, Frank's varsity jacket resting on his shoulders as he starts another note. He watches him write before he rips the paper off and passes it over.

'What's your deal kid?'

Frank snorts before dropping the note in the fire and crossing his arms. The mask stares back at him, empty and hollow as ever.

"Grew up in foster care, take your fuckin' pick at issues." He says with a shrug. A few moments of silence pass and he tries to figure out what Ghostface wants to hear.

"I guess...when I stabbed that guy I felt somethin'." He admits, "Then when people around town started talking about it felt...good y'know?"

He looks up from the fire to see Ghostface nod, and start writing again. A spark of pride jumps from within him at figuring out what he wanted.

'I think we're pretty similar. But you're really sloppy, kid. A competent force would catch you in days. That why you stopped at one?'

Frank rolls his eyes and drops the note in the fire, "Yeah, but they didn't. I did a good enough job for the first time that they think its you, buddy."

It's pretty entertaining to see Ghostface huff and write an angry note instead of speaking.

'When I don't want bodies found, I make sure the grave is more than three feet deep.'

"Fuck you. Ground was fucking frozen you try digging a hole."

Ghostface waves his hand dismissively. The action annoyed Frank but simply glares and bears it as Ghostface starts on a new, longer note.

'Listen, you're interesting to me. Killing can get repetitive over time believe it or not. But you're a smart kid, just a little inexperienced.'

Frank reads the note a few times before looking at Ghostface in disbelief. Was he asking what he thought he was asking. Ghostface simply warms his hands over the flames, shadows flickering over the mask anguished expression.

"Are you...asking me to be your protege in murder?"

The mask nods firmly. He looks back at the note once more. Almost wishing he could keep it as he drops it into the flames. As annoying as it is to admit the man was right. He never planned on killing anyone ever. Despite his status as a fucked up piece of shit the thought of committing murder never crossed his mind. That night he just...went into a frenzy at the sound of Julie's cry. He went to far, some would even say he made a mistake.

"What happens if I say no?"

He swears he can see an evil in the hallowed eyes of the mask, either that or a trick of the flames. Ghostface writes a quick note, and goes as far as to fold it before passing it over.

'If you say no I'll slit your pretty throat.'

A chill runs through his body, but for the entirely wrong reasons. No one had ever called him pretty.

"You drive a hard bargain, Ghosty. I'm in."

Ghostface gives him a thumbs up and shoves the notebook into one of his many pockets. While he's not looking Frank slips the threat into his pocket and rubs his arms.

"So uh, what does this entail? Am I going to follow you around or what?"

Ghostface nods, pulling a small black bundle out of a random pocket and holding it out to Frank. He takes it and stares at the black leather gloves in confusion.

"Thank you?"

He watches Ghastface holds up his hand and tap the tip of his finger. He frowns in confusion and Ghostface holds up two fingers instead.

"Two words?"

A hand wave and a nod.

"One word, two parts?"

A nod.

"Hmm, first word finger?"

A nod. Ghostface mimes writing.

"Finger...writing? Painting?"

A head shake.

"Finger...print? Fingerprints?"

Ghostface gives him a thumbs up and he grins. Guess that made sense, his prints would already be in the registry. It would be the easiest way to track him down.

"Did you clean my prints up from a few nights ago?" He asks curiously, stuffing the gift in his back pocket. Ghostface nods.

"Thanks."

Frank looks back up at the flickering lights above and pulls his mask down. It was getting late and as much as he wanted to stay out here he would eventually freeze without his coat. Ghostface takes the hint and passes it back with a nod of thanks, although as he puts it on Frank makes a disgusted face.

"God is this your cologne? It smells like shit man." He mocks, putting the lid onto the burn barrel to let the fire die down on its own.

Ghostface shrugs and leans against the railing, blank eyes watching him button up his jacket a flip his hood up. He turns, waving behind his back.

"See ya soon, Ghosty."

His walk home is quiet, and he knows that he's being followed by the killer. There's no way the freak wouldn't be stalking him. He hoists himself through his window and turns around to close the blinds and lock it. He takes a few minutes to lock the front and back doors too before returning to his room. It was almost four in the morning, and he was starting to feel really tired. Frank shrugs off his coat and fishes the note out of his pocket before pulling his pants off and laying in bed. He reads the note over a few times, relishing in the twist it brought to his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The man the myth the ghostface. If ur cold hes cold bring him in


	5. Surveillance Camera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chugginh right along with this shocking attempt at a slow burn. I know, i know, why wont they fuck already? 
> 
> Also somebody says the fslur. 
> 
> (Its frank)
> 
> ((Not frank as in the fslur is frank but like he says it))

Frank wasn't sure what to expect after that meeting. There was this excitement bubbling in his chest, an expectation that something was going to happen and it was going to happen soon.

What did happen was radio silence for roughly two days. Which was fair, Ghostface was a busy guy no need to get antsy that he hasn't left a note. Psycho Killer and all that jazz, probably out stalking.

But if there was one thing Frank really, really fucking hated it was being ignored. Sure, sure, he could look past it for now. Again Ghostface is a busy man. But it was getting on his fucking nerves.

"Frank you look like you're about to burst a blood vessel." Joey comments dryly from across the picnic table.

Frank looks up from the grinning face he was meticulously carving into the wooden surface. Technically the table was off school grounds, meaning it was the perfect place to sit and let the principal glower at him for ruining the basketball teams reputation and distracting their best hockey player. Joey slides him an orange from his tray.

"Do I?"

"Yeah man, what's on your mind?"

He starts peeling the orange gratefully. Joey's oranges were probably the only reason he hasn't died of scurvy. While he couldn't go right out and talk about his rendezvous with Ghostface he could talk about something else troubling him.

"Have you been approached recently?"

Joey snorts, "Approached? Yeah I've been approached Frank that's what happens when you exist."

"No you fuck I mean by like someone official."

The man shrugs, absently pushing his dreads back and eating a few carrots, "No, why?"

"This reporter, Ted or whatever asked me about you earlier. Wanted to talk to you about your job."

He watches with interest as Joey stiffens and fear flashes in his eyes. He does a surprisingly good job of acting casual about the mention of a crucial problem in their kinda clean escape.

"Sure it was me?"

"Asked for Jérémy Prescott."

"Could be another, common name."

"Another Jérémy that used to work at Slope Stop? In fucking Ormond? There's only one other person in that school named Jeremy and you're the only black person in forty fucking miles, Joey." Frank reminds him as he finishes his orange.

"...My dad's black too."

"Yeah and he's gonna get his reputation fucked if that reporter gets anything out of you."

Joey sighs and pushes his tray away. Frank helps himself to the leftovers almost immediately. Knowing Joey if this Ted guy started talking to him he would start acting impulsively. Not that he was one to talk about acting on impulse. Thankfully he had a plan in mind.

"Listen Joey, if you get approached by anyone in the media just act scared."

The man looks up and glares at Frank, "Scared? I'm not fucking scared-"

" _ I _ know you're not scared, but they don't. Just, y'know, act like all this Ghostface stuff has you paranoid. Like you're afraid you'll get ganked next if you reveal too much about your personal life. Cry a bit."

Joey huffs, obviously not liking having to act scared. Thankfully no one in the gang actually seemed scared of the whole Ghostface stuff, which was a relief considering he was conspiring with the guy. Maybe he could work out an immunity thing for them next time he meet up with him. Unless that put a bigger target on their backs. He'd figure it out.

"Frank, are you listening?"

"Hm?" Frank's eyes snap over to Joey's, having drifted off to stare past him into the woods.

"I'm actually kinda worried about you."

He can't help but laugh at that, "What? Why?"

Joey's expression remains dead serious, and he leans forward to smirk at him. He wasn't worried at all really. That reporter was barking up the wrong tree, no target was on his back, and he was going to start killing again soon.

"I think you're being targeted."

Frank raises his eyebrows, "Oh?"

"Yes! I know it's old news but me and Susie were talking about those calls you got and that thing with your-"

"Oh you mean the prank?" Frank interrupts. It's annoying how Joey picks now of all times to give a shit about that.

"Yeah...we think it might've actually been...y'know," Joey makes a stabbing motion, "...the killer."

He tilts his head curiously. Now that was a fun thought, plausible maybe but...no. There's no real record of Ghostface messing with victims like that, right?

"You know Stab right?" Joey continues after Frank's silence.

"Yeah, pretty decent movie I guess. Why?"

"Well you know how it's based on real events, and how this Ghostface uses the same mask as Billy Loomis and Stu Macher?"

"Mmmhmm." Frank hums, quickly losing interest in Joey's movie theories.

"Well you remember how that movie opens with the phone call and all. Maybe this killer is emulating that with you."

This was stupid. This was getting really, really stupid. He had better things to do than listen to this shit.

Actually he really didn't, but that doesn't make him want to listen any more. This was real life not a shitty slasher movie. Ghostface isn't some stupid horny teen trying to fuck and kill his ex.

"You're just saying that because me and Drew Barrymore are both blondes."

Joey sighs in frustration and gets to his feet angrily. Shit he was actually serious about this?

"Frank, please just be fucking careful okay? It's the least you can do for me." Joey says in a surprisingly gentle voice despite his posture. Frank stares up at him, unsure how to really react to genuine care.

"S-Sure man. I'll uh, keep locking doors."

Joey nods and the lunch bell rings. He watches Joey glance at the school then back to him, obviously considering skipping. Frank was normally one to encourage it until he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye.

"Shit, eleven o'clock. That's the guy." Frank hisses, getting to his feet and not looking at the vulture just yet. Joey spares a quick glance to the man, and Frank shoos at him.

"Get to class. I'll go tell him to fuck off."

"Sure I can't do that?"

Frank gives Joey a sharp look, and the man dutifully grabs his bags and starts towards the school. Frank grabs his knife and starts towards the reporter, who had immediately changed trajectories and was now heading towards Joey.

"Excuse me-"

Before he can finish his sentence Frank cuts him off by jumping in front of him and grabbing the lapels of his jacket. The man looks down at him in shock as Frank quickly pushes him back a few steps.

"Hey Ted-"

"Jed."

"I don't give a fuck what your name is. What the fuck did I say about coming around here."

He watches Jed's lips quick into an infuriating smile that was way to attractive for what a bastard he was.

"I'm so sorry Frank, but I'm afraid you're not a member of law enforcement and I don't have to listen a feral teenager who should be-"

"I'm twenty you cunt." Frank snaps. He really wasn't that short, just chronically malnourished.

"My mistake." Jed says, bringing his hand up to gently tug and Frank's crushing grip on his jacket. He notices a bandage on the hand he spilled coffee on and feels a rush of sadistic glee. Frank releases the man, pushing him back as he does so.

"Are you busy tonight?" Jed asks as he straightens his jacket.

"What."

"Are you busy? If you're not we could go and get a-"

"Are you asking me out?" Frank interrupts, staring at Jed in utter shock. Surely there was a time and place for that.

"Yes?"

That was a wrong turn and a half. Frank had mostly finished hashing out any scruples he had about his sexuality a foster home. The result was that he didn't really give a shit as long as they other person looked good. And while Jed did look good. What the fuck?

"Fuck off, faggot." Frank growls, attempting to shoulder check the man only to find he was surprisingly sturdy. He almost bounces off and to the ground, recovering enough to awkwardly edge around the American.

"Hmm, oh was that your boyfriend?"

He ignores the mocking innocent tone and focuses on not turning and stabbing the man in broad daylight as hr stomps off.

"Be a shame if something were to happen to him..."

Frank stops dead in his tracks. He knew a threat when he heard one. He hears Jed's boots scrape the ground before an arm wraps around his shoulders. The feeling churns his stomach, but he doesn't shake it off. Instead letting Jed guide him forward as the man leans in close, speaking quietly into his ear.

"Listen, I'm from Tennessee. I've seen people lighter than Joey locked up for twenty years on a speeding ticket. Canada isn't the South, but I know that you know looks aren't everything."

He walks on, hands in his pocket and gripping his knife hard. Jed's arm felt like a cement block on his shoulders.

"What do you want." Frank grits out.

"Let me talk to Joey. One attempt, you don't even gotta be there okay? And that's it. That's all I want. He doesn't even have to know we talked. I'm doing him a favor really, clearing up his good name."

The last thing he wanted to do was sell out Joey. This man knew how to manipulate people, whatever he wanted from Joey he was going to get. Whether is be a confession of innocence. Although his desperation must mean he has absolutely nothing on Joey at all besides a hunch. A coincidence that was going to be ignored by any and all police.

"Can we uh, talk about this...privately?" Frank says, dropping his voice to a reluctant whisper. He can practically feel the smile on Jed's face as they turn off the sidewalk and walk a few paces into the surrounding forest.

"I'm sorry I called you a uh, faggot. I've just never been hit on by a guy and..." Frank trails off, dangling the bait out for Jed to take.

"Don't tell me you liked it?" Jed teases, smirking disgustingly before Frank elbows him in the gut. The man lets out a small grunt and Frank pushes him backwards, watching him trip over a wayward branch and fall with a satisfying thud.

"Shut the fuck up." Frank sneers, walking over to Jed as the man attempts to sit up and pressing his foot against his shoulder to push him onto his back with very little resistance.

He pulls his knife out of his pocket with flourish and steps over Jed, crouching down and glaring at the infuriating placid expression in the mans face.

"You're not talking to Joey, and you're not getting a fucking date with me you creep." Frank hisses at the man, who only quirks his eyebrows up in response.

"This is your last warning Jed. Don't let the sun go down on you here."

"Why's that?" The man asks curiously, tilting his head and staring into Frank's eyes with a steely resilience despite the knife inches from his throat.

"The night is endless in this town."

He watches a peculiar expression befall Jed's face, and decides he's made himself clear. Frank stands and with barely a glance back makes his way back to the sidewalk and toward his house. He had to call Joey as soon as classes let out to make sure he wasn't harassed.

"Frank? That you?" Clive calls from the garage as he unlocks the door and walks in, "Someone called askin' for you."

"Really?" Frank replies, walking to the phone and turning the paper next to it towards him.

'Meet on Santa Rosa street, eleven. Don't be late.'

He grins, and tucks the note into his pocket. Thank god he was getting some action, he was starting to get bored of waiting.

\---

Santa Rosa street was empty. Not even a stray newspaper drifted by as Frank made his way slowly through the bushes. He crouches down near a phone pole and squints carefully up and down the street, paying close attention to the gaps between shrubs for any sort of white flash. He really doesn't want to be caught off guard by Ghostface again, it had been kind of embarrassing that last few times. Made him look-

A twig snaps behind him. It's not a very loud sound, if the night hadn't been so quiet, and he hadn't been on high alert he wouldn't have even heard it. Slowly he turns to see a familiar mask crouching a few feet away from him. He's grateful that his own masks hides the grin that comes to his face at the sight of the killer. Ghostface waves him over, and he follows.

"Hey, uh got your message."

The mask nods, and Ghostface makes his way through the trees. Weaving silently over leaves until he stops and crouches behind a tree at the treeline. Frank crouches next to him, looking out over the small shrubbery to an unassuming house. This was a surprisingly good vantage point, he could see the front and back yard. And by moving a few feet over he could see the entire front and back of the house.

"What are we doing?" Frank whispers, a sense of dread growing in him.

Ghostface taps his wrist. He's not actually wearing a watch but Frank understands the unfortunate thing he was trying to relay.

"For how long?"

The mask turns to him in a slow purposeful motion that somehow oozes annoyance. Ghostface shrugs and turns back to stare at the house.

As long as it takes, huh? He holds in an annoyed huff and sits down, crossing his legs like a petulant child. There had to be a reason for this, right? Ghostface was doing something that aided in his murder spree. He peeks over the bushes at the house and stares. There was a light at the top window, and the lower one. If he strained his eyes he could vaguely make out a shape of a person in the living room. Probably watching television, maybe even a report on The Ghostface.

"Is the person inside the target?" Frank whispers, looking over to see Ghostface shake his head.

"Then why are we here?"

Once again, Ghostface taps his wrist silently. Frank curses and looks back at the house. It makes sense to stake out the house of course. The gang had been very lucky that the janitor didn't have any real connections, letting them get away nearly scott free. This was a learning experience and he should at least pay attention.

The light goes out upstairs, causing Ghostface to pull out a small leatherbound notebook and write a few lines. He tries to read the notes but his handwriting is so small he can't make out any words. A breeze blows by and he sees Ghostface shiver slightly. It's almost impressive how silent and still he is. A thought crossed Frank's mind, and he carefully scoots closer to Ghostface until brushes the man's side. When he doesn't move away Frank moves closer, gently leaning into the man's chest.

"You looked cold." Frank says after a few moments of heavy awkward silence. He glances up to see the mask pointed dutifully at the house. Unexpected relief floods through him when he feels an arm rest on his shoulder and pull him ever so slightly closer.

His heart starts racing and his face feels warm under the mask. Frank was never a touchy person, not one for cuddles or hugs if he could avoid it. But this was...different. He enjoyed the weight and minimal warmth of the other man so close to him. He could feel the rise and fall of Ghostface's chest against his shoulder, and the slight noise of his breaths through the mask. He relishes in the feelings fluttering through his chest, and leans back against Ghostface and gets comfortable.

Frank awakens to a firm hand shaking his shoulder. He jolts in panic, looking around before realizing he was still crouched behind the bushes with Ghostface. He moves away, watching the killer pull a camera from under his heavy coat and take a picture of the house. Frank turns to look and is surprised to see a car parked in the lot, and a man in a suit yawning as he walks to the front door. Ghostface tucks the camera back into his coat and motions for Frank to follow.

Groggily he stands and walks after the killer, lifting his mask to rub the sleep from his eyes. How long had he been asleep? And how was he able to fall asleep in the lap of a notorious serial killer? He was barely able to fall asleep at his best friends house. Frank is pulled out of his thoughts when he runs into Ghostface, who had suddenly stopped walking. The man turns, and holds a note out to Frank.

'We're done for tonight.'

He stares at the note, then glares at Ghostface.

"You dragged me all the way out here for a single fucking photo? Are you kidding me?" Frank hisses. He didn't like having his time wasted when he could have spent tonight at Joey's enjoying a bunch of shitty movies. Not sitting around for, judging by the position of the moon, at least three hours.

Ghostface's shoulders tense at the tone and he steps forward to loom over Frank. He's not particularly intimidated by the action, meeting the blank masks stare with his own.

"Gonna write mean angry letter?" Frank presses, some deep masochistic part of his mind wanted to push the killer until he snapped.

In a single fluid motion Ghostface pulls a knife from a sheath at his thigh. Frank reaches towards his pocket for his knife, only to be stopped by a crushing grip on his wrist. He's yanked forward roughly, his chest presses against Ghostface and he can feel the sharp tip of the knife rest against the base of his skull. Frank goes still, breath starting to come fast as adrenaline pumps through his blood and his hands begin to shake in Ghostface's grip. He can feel Ghostface's fingers trace over the glove he had been gifted. He made sure to wear them despite how uncomfortably they pressed against his bandages. The fingers drag down his palm before moving away to tip his mask up. A faint mist raises from Frank's lips in the cool night air, and he stares up at the black downturned eyes in excitement. He can hear Ghostface breathing behind the mask, and a new terrible idea worms into his mind.

"Don't tease me, Ghosty. If you're going to kill me, do it already."

The mask tilts curiously as the gloved hand runs down the side of his face. Fingers ghosting over the scars on his nose and lips. Frank reaches behind him and wraps his hand carefully over Ghostface's. Only a moment of hesitation passes before he drags the blade lightly around the side of his neck. He guides the knife to his jugular, pressing the tip into the soft skin hard enough to cause a sharp sting. He can feel blood flowing from the tiny puncture, and his breath comes faster.

"C'mon Ghostface, cut through my neck until you feel bone if you're really that mad." He whispers softly, releasing his grip on the knife and letting his hand fall to his side.

He can hear a distinct hitch in Ghostface's breath, and he can feel the knife waver slightly against his throat. Fear and excitement course through him so powerfully he begins to shake with thrilling tremors.

Ghostface pulls the knife away and Frank can hear it slide into its sheath. He doesn't quite relax as the man stepped a few paces back from him to write a note. Instead he dabs at his neck with his sleeve, pulling away to see a small amount of blood. The cut wouldn't be too noticeable, he could say it was from shaving. He looks up to see Ghostface holding a small slip of paper out to him.

'Meet me on Alpha Street, same time tomorrow. Get a sheath for your knife, and if you wear that school jacket again you're a dead man.'

Alright, Ghostface did have a point there. Walking around in his old varsity jacket wasn't exactly incognito. It was just a little too warm for his leather one in his opinion. And the sheath was a good idea, he'd grab one from work tomorrow. Maybe they could actually get some action in and kill someone already. He notices a small arrow on the note and turns it around.

'P.S. you should take care of that.'

He looks up to see the man had already skulked off into the woods, leaving him unable to even look at him confused. With a shrug Frank pockets the note, figuring he might as well head home and a few hours of decent sleep. Frank takes one step before understanding Ghostface's little addendum to the note. He was sporting a very impressive boner considering he hadn't exactly been touched in a way that a normal person would need to be to get this hard. How did he not notice it before now? Because it was actually kind of distracting as he tried to walk home.

As he climbs into his window he catches a small flash of white in the trees along the back yard. He pauses, gazing into the trees curiously. If he remembered correctly that area would give anyone who happened to be crouched in the shrubs a perfect of his window. Frank flips his lamp on before grabbing a notebook and sharpie from his desk, taking his turn to write a note to Ghostface.

'Fuck Off.' In big capital letters. He thinks about adding a little heart but decides against it.

He props the book up in the window, flips off the general direction he knew Ghostface would be then locks his window. He walks away from the notebook as he strips to his boxers for bed. The idea that he was being watched did appeal to him in a way. It didn't make him want to put on a show or anything, it just made him leave the curtains open in case a certain ghost was watching. What could he say, he loved attention. Good or bad.

He turns the lamp off and lays in bed, staring at the dark roof. Moonlight filters in through the slightly obscured window. The walk home had really killed his boner, so if Ghosty was out there waiting for a show he was in for a long night of blue balls. The thought of that was really nice, Ghostface wanting him. The killer had shown record of sexual motivation for his crimes, guy probably got a kick out of watching and killing. Frank was pretty fucked up but he drew the line dead bodies. The day he got a stiffie over a dead body was the day he would do the damn world a favor and make himself the corpse.

But the thrill of the hunt? The feeling of that cold steel against his throat and somehow knowing that no matter how much he pushed the killer he wasn't going to be hurt? Well that really got him going.

Frank rolls over, pulling his blanket around him curling up. Part of him was hoping that he didn't mishear the hitch in Ghostface's breath back then. That it was from desire and not the psychotic urge to murder him, but more along the lines of a urge to fuck him.

Only way to find out was to push harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that a knife in your, oh hmm well yeah thars defiantly a knife surgically implanted on your dick.


	6. Susie's Mixtape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im gonna start adding songs that make me think of ghostfrank now
> 
> [sweet dreams](https://youtu.be/tLmfSvy4rmo)
> 
> Cw: self harm, literal murder

It was getting time for a murder. At least that's what Ghostface's pattern was saying. It had been roughly ten days since Frank had met the killer at that lady's house, his last confirmed kill. And the maniac struck around every other week. Frank had been called to stand watch a few more times. It was very fucking boring, and Ghostface was suddenly really adament on making sure he stayed awake and four feet away at all times. He knew it was for him to memorize patterns of the victims to avoid getting caught. Although Ghostface had taken him to different houses each night and Frank could only assume the nights he wasn't with him the man was watching even more potential targets.

The killer really did put his work in to do his crimes. Frank was already starting to sport dark circles under his eyes he can't imagine what Ghostface's looked like.

Frank yawns and glances around the store. Empty as always. He was starting to think this place was a front for something because no one ever fucking came in. He takes another look at the newspaper, eyes glancing over yet another article on Ghostface and how the curfew was affecting business. It was about to get even worse when they struck again, whenever that was. He was excited to kill again, and in a new way. It was a bit of a buzzkill to force the gang to stab that guy to death when he was tempted to do it all himself. Maybe he could take out one of Ghostface's targets, since they were technically his too.

The phone rings. He drops the newspaper and rolls the chair across the floor towards it.

"Hello thank you for calling Bass Professional this is Frank speaking." He drones out.

"Who's there?" A raspy voice asks.

"Who are you calling for?" Frank shoots back, jumping up onto the back counter and staring into space.

"What if I said you?"

"What if I said goodbye." Frank replies, he not allowed to just hang up since that would actually get him in trouble. His boss hated phone calls more than he did.

"Why would you wanna do that?" The voice replies, a weird slimy undertone in his voice. It makes Frank's stomach turn.

"Why do you always answer a question with another?" He snaps back.

"I'm inquisitive."

"And I'm fu-" He stops and takes a breath, "I am very busy. Can I take a message for somebody?" Frank grits out, walking over to the pad of paper and grabbing a pen. There's silence on the line, and he's just about to hang up when the voice speaks up.

"Do you wanna die tonight, Frank?"

Frank feels his heart stutter in his chest, and he looks up slowly. There isn't a single car in the parking lot, and no figures in the trees.

"What?" Is all he can force out.

"That's a bit fast for us, I know. How about we kill tonight instead?"

He walks around the counter and squints out towards the parking lot. The shop was located at the end of a strip mall block, got very little action as it was, especially for this time of the day.

"Who is this? I'm not fucking around this time." Frank growls. Was this the cops? Or just some weird-

"You know who I am, Frank."

He swallows, and turns the lock on the door. The voice on the other end laughs ever so softly. It might as well have sounded like a gun cocking.

"Wrong door."

With that the line dies, and Frank is left with the echo of the dial tone in his ear. He turns away and drops the phone on the counter, reaching under the grab the fake butterfly knife and flip it out.That could not be who he thought it was. There's no fucking way Ghostface doesn't  _ talk _ .

He hears the backdoor slowly creaks open. Frank switches the butterfly knife to his other hand to pull his hunting knife out from the sheath at his back. Easier to pull his hoodie over that than a leg one. Carefully he steps forward, moving slowly around a stack of canned rations and towards the back room. There wasn't much in there. The supply closet and a table, but it was the easiest place to hide.

Frank peers into the room, the light had been turned on and the door was slightly ajar. He wonders if he should call out to the person in there. Not generally a good idea, but if it was Ghostface then he should be okay. Unless this was some sort of test? Best keep his mouth shut and stab first.

He passes the threshold of the doorway and looks around. The supply closet was closed. He takes a few steps towards the closet, reaching out and barely brushing the doorknob when the door behind him slams shut. Frank starts to turn only for his shoulder to be grabbed and him to be shoved into the wall. Two hands take his wrists in an iron grip and force them up next to his head. Gloved fingers dig into his veins with enough force to make him cry out and drop his weapons. He feels a chest press against his back and cranes his head around to look at his assailant, unsurprised to see a familiar white mask.

"Bit early to be dressed up." Frank quips, shifting in the killers grasp, "That really you on the phone, Ghosty?"

The mask nods, making no move to release him from his grasp. Not that Frank was really complaining. Usually he really hated being touched by others, never held enough as a baby no doubt, but with Ghostface it was different. It was like being touched by a, well, ghost. He feels the man shift behind him before his feet are kicked apart by heavy boots. A shudder runs through him at the feeling of being oddly exposed.

"Easy there, buddy." Frank says, resting his forehead against the wall, "You gonna give me a pat down or a strip search?"

He hears a muffled laugh from behind the mask before the hands at his wrists lightly trail down his arms. Frank bites his lip, keeping his hands against the wall and letting Ghostface's fingers run down his back and over his waist before stopping at his belt. One of the hands move away and he hears a rustle of fabric before something is slipped into his pocket.

"Coulda just passed it to me, eh?" Frank says, shocked to hear his voice coming out so breathless. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Ghostface gently squeezes his hips before pulling away. Frank tries to step back only to be roughly shoved against the wall again.

"Alright, alright. Get the fuck outta my store then." Frank snaps, quickly regaining his usual annoyed tone. He stands still until he hears the backdoor close before pushing off the wall and retrieving the fallen knives. He shoves the hunting knife back in the sheath and flips the butterfly closed. He walks back out to the front room, digging into his pocket to find a neatly folded piece of paper. Frank drops onto the chair, tossing the butterfly knife away to unfold the note eagerly.

'Orange Grove Ave. Ten thirty. Don't be late.'

Excitement courses through him after reading the delicate writing. Tonight was the night, just like he thought. It was weird to hear Ghostface talk, if that had been him of course. The voice sounded really familiar though. The accent was American, and he had to be using some kind of machine to change his voice since it sounded so distorted despite being so near. Almost like those weird phone calls he got at home a few weeks ago...

A knock on the glass startles him and he turns to see a familiar and obnoxious face. This freak really didn't know when to quit. Frank shoves the note in his pocket before rising and walking over to the door, putting on his best and brightest customer service smile as he flips the sign from open to closed. Jed raises his eyebrows, murky brown eyes impressively void of emotion. If there was one thing Frank enjoyed it was getting reactions out of people, good or bad. It was fun to watch emotions flow through people like water in response to things he did or said. Whether results were expected or not, all that mattered was that he got them.

That's a thing that pissed him off about this guy. Jed was different than anyone he'd dealt with. In the few times he had the burden of interacting with him the mans face was like a desert. He made facial expressions yeah, smiled, frowned, raised his eyebrows. But it didn't feel...real. Like he was a human shaped shadow trying to hide amongst the living.

Guess it takes one to know one.

"Closed, Jed. Fuck off." He calls through the door.

The man tilts his head and adjusts his glasses, "Oh, do you always close early today?"

Frank sneers at the sarcastic tone and flips him off. He didn't really give a shit if Jed called his boss for shutting the store at ten am. He would rather die than serve this fucker.

"If you are closed can I have a few words with you about the-"

"Casse-toi."

Frank turns away from the door and stalks back to the chair. He glances over to see Jed still standing at the door with a puzzled expression. Frank turns away and puts his headphones on, blasting the volume of Susie's mixtape. Listening to Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun was better than whatever that vulture wanted to say. With any luck Ghostface would kill him while he was out there.

The man wanders off soon enough, and a good ten minutes later Frank unlocks the door, figuring the man had probably fucked off long enough. Maybe if he kept pestering him Frank could go to the police about it. That would be pretty damn ironic. Although Joey had told him he hadn't seen the guy at all so maybe Jed took his threat seriously. Speaking of, he would have to let Julie know he wasn't going to be at her homecoming party. Out committing a murder and all.

He runs through a few targets in his mind and wonders who the lucky victim was going to be. The problem with all the targets he had scoped out in the last few days was that there were always multiple people hanging around. Ghostface took a photo every time, but it was hard to tell just who and why the photo was taken. Maybe now that Ghostface had broken the ice and actually spoke to him the killer would fucking explain something once in a while. He knew Orange Grove Ave was in the richer part of town, a few blocks away from where Julie lived. They had sat watch at three houses in that area, one was uncomfortably close to Julie's but thankfully it was on a different street.

Frank really had to...bring up the issue of the gang eventually. He wasn't anonymous like Ghostface. The killer obviously knew where he lived and worked, he was a stalker after all. That meant he had to know about the other three. After getting expelled Frank didn't hang out with many other students besides the gang, although he would shoot the shit with a few old basketball team mates once in a blue moon. It left an uncomfortable feeling in him knowing that the killer knew them. Despite Ghostface's apparent soft spot for him the psycho wasn't above making creepy calls and assaulting him at work just for kicks.

A new emotion was rooting itself in the recesses of Frank's mind. It was an unfamiliar weight that wracked him with unease. The papers often mentioned Ghostface's previous stint in America, how the bodies were butchered and all that good shit. Frank was entertained when he read about those, dare he say amused at the incredibly graphic description of this one girl in Florida that was strung up like a scarecrow. But now the thought of that happening to Susie, Julie or Joey...it made him feel ill. That was weird.

Thankfully he doesn't have to stew in the newfound emotion too long when the door chimes ring. He looks up to see a familiar face walking towards him.

"Hey Susie."

"Hi Frank."

A glance at the clock reveals it was only eleven, meaning Susie was for sure skipping class. This must be important since she was never one to play hooky as much he would.

"What's up?" Frank asks, leaning against the checkout counter as she nears.

"It's my free period so don't get smart with me." Susie says, immediately deflecting the many remarks Frank was trying to pick from, "I came to get my tape."

Frank reaches over and pops it out of the walkman before sliding it over the counter, "That'll be four seventy-five."

Susie gives him a withering look as she takes the tape and hides it in the endless pockets of her hoodie. He looks at the clock, relieved to see that his boss should be coming in a minute or two to relieve him.

"Are you still coming to the homecoming party?"

"Dunno. Might get there late, might not come."

He watches a look of disappointment flash over Susie's face. All the stalking he had been doing was pulling him away from the gang more and more. They had started to notice but were too afraid to press the issue with him since he made a habit of blowing up on them when they asked about where he was. Kept them off his back well enough. With that the door chimes ring again and his boss walks in.

"Hey I'll walk you back to school!" Frank says in a fake cheery tone, "Pretty dangerous with a killer on the loose, eh?" He adds, looking directly at his boss and daring him tk say something.

"Fuck off, Frank." Is his permission to leave. He hops over the counter and takes Susie's arm, strolling out with a wave.

"You see anyone out here? Brown hair, five o' clock shadow, round glasses?"

Susie gives him a questioning look and shakes her head, "Nope, didn't see anyone on the streets. Ormond's kinda been a ghost town."

She pauses and lets out a giggle, "Actually it's been a Ghostface town, eh!"

Frank snorts at that awful joke. He'd have to tell the man himself eventually. Getting a barely stifled laugh from the monstrous mask was one of the highlights of his nights spent out.

"Right on the money there. Surprised Julie's even allowed to throw her homecoming party at all."

"I think it's like, sponsored by the school so there's gonna be a bunch of cops and stuff patrolling. You know how her parents are."

He nods, Julie's dad was in real tight with the principle. And considering Julie's house was the size of both his and Susie's combined safe parties were pretty common. The afterparties up on Mt. Ormond however are the stuff of legend.

"There gonna be an after party?"

"Dunno. Julie hasn't mentioned one at all."

Frank lets out a thoughtful hum, "If I can't make the party I might hit up an after party..."

Susie takes a small breath and slows down, obviously hyping herself up for a question that's been on her mind.

"Frank I've uh, been meaning to ask...are you getting enough sleep?"

He holds back his blow up and tilts his head curiously, "Sleep?"

"Well you've just been uh, too busy for sleepovers and sleeping in a lot! I uh, don't care what you've been doing! I just uh, wanna make sure you're...y'know...not pushing yourself?" Susie says quickly, fidgeting nervously with the worn sleeve of her hoodie.

"Ah yeah well, I've been busy. And you know I don't sleep much anyway." Frank deflects carefully, deciding that Susie was being very good at minding her own business and didn't need a good yelling at.

"As long as you're okay!" Susie replies, relaxing at the gentle tone he took, "Sorry to pry buuut...."

He looks down at her suspiciously, "What?"

"Are you seeing someone?"

Frank almost stops dead in his tracks, barely managing to keep a straight face.

"What?"

"Are you like...seeing someone? Like going on dates and stuff?" Susie continues, waving a hand around for emphasis.

Well, in a way she wasn't  _ wrong _ . His meetings with Ghostface were kind of like dates...even though he had never been on a real date he was sure that their meetings kind of counted?

No, no wait that was fucking stupid. He was not seeing Ghostface like that. He was seeing the killer so he could murder again. Not to get anything weird and sexual like that. No way.

"I mean I'm seeing someone but-"

"Ooooh! Who is she?"

Frank glares, "But it's not-"

"Oh! Who is  _ he _ ?" Susie asks with an excited gasp. Frank rolls his eyes and considers smacking the back of her head.

"It's not like that, Susie."

His tone shuts her up immediately.

"I'm meeting up with someone who shares a similar interest that you guys don't. He just happens to only be free later at night."

"Oh..uhm, thats nice! Is he...nice?"

Frank shrugs, "As nice as he can be."

He leaves out the for a mass murderer part as he stops in front of the chain link fence leading to the school.

"See ya later pinky!" He calls as she makes her way up the path.

"See you when I see you!" She replies with a wave.

Frank turns and immediately lights a cigarette. Strolling back home with murder on his mind. He wonders if Ghostface knows about the party taking place. It was only a few blocks away from the meeting point, could be kind of risky to kill someone there. Then again maybe it was apart of some big convoluted plan the killer had to spice things up. Either way Frank was excited to see what Ghostface had in-store for him tonight.

He climbs up his porch steps and unlocks the door. Clive was at work, but today was usually grocery day so there might be something to eat. Frank stops at the sink to flick some ashes off the cigarette into it. He stares at the glowing amber of the end, suddenly hit by the usual urge. As much fun as it was to be working with Ghostface all the stalking was very boring to him. He understood getting their routine and all, but so many subjects and every night for hours? That creeping numbness always returned to him without fail. He hated it. He could feel that at least, hatred and anger were common among him.

Frank tugs the bandages down and presses the burning end the back of his hand neatly in between two round scars and healing burn. The stinging hits immediately, and he takes a slow breath before tossing the butt away and pulling the bandage up. He opens the cabinet and grabs a few cosmic brownies for lunch before going to his room to let the hours pass.

\---

A cloud passes over the moon, drenching the small crop of trees in deeper shadow. The streets are empty since everyone and their mother was at the homecoming party. Except Frank of course, he was crouched in the bushes next to Ghostface awaiting further instruction. It had been at least twenty minutes and he was really getting impatient with this whole thing. While he wasn't promised a kill tonight it was heavily implied.

"Hey Ghosty we actually gonna fuckin' do something?" Frank whispers, shifting to his knees before he got a Charlie horse, "Please tell me you have a plan?"

The man nods, and does nothing else. Frank rolls his eyes and looks at the targets house. It was pretty big, a nice two stories with an upper balcony and everything. There was a light on inside, but no car in the driveway. He can't recall who exactly lived here, he wasn't taking notes on all this shit.

Ghostface rises from his crouch slightly, and Frank does the same. The man motions for him to follow as the creep out of the bushes and towards the house. His heart starts to pound in his chest at the sheer exhilaration of finally doing what he wanted to do for so long. They walk around the house and to the back door, crouching down next to the stairs up the impressive porch. He watches Ghostface dig into his pocket and pulls out a folded note.

"Aren't you gonna like...talk to me? I mean we talked on the phone and all earlier?" Frank complains as he takes the paper.

Somehow Ghostface manages a very annoyed stare at Frank with the unmoving screaming face of the mask. Guess he was shy in person. With a shrug he unfolds the note to find a short paragraph of instructions.

'Wait at the door until the target opens it. When he does force him back into the house and lock it behind you. It's a deadbolt just above the knob, don't miss it.'

Frank raises an eyebrow at the words. Sounded easy, almost too easy really.

"Then what?"

Ghostface raises a hand and makes a stabbing motion, causing Frank to mimic the grin on his own mask.

"What are you going to do?"

He watches the man raise his hand to his face and mime a phone call. Interesting, he wonders if that was the case with all the victims. Ghostface then shooes him away onto the porch to wait before climbing up the porch railing and lifting himself onto the overhang. It was an impressive feat of acrobatics Frank had to admit.

He slides his knife out of the sheath after hearing the upper window slide open then gently closed. It's almost disappointing knowing he wouldn't be able to hear the conversation happening in there. Guessing by his own calls Ghostface had a sick sense of humor he would love. The previous murder he had witnessed was quick and to the point, probably due to Frank's rude interupption. He wonders how this one would go, slow and drawn out or a quick stab to the head. The realization that it was going to be up to him sends a shiver down his spine.

Slow and drawn out sounded like a lot of fun.

A crash of shattered glass sounds from inside the house, and Frank can hear a muffled yelp. He straightens up, gripping the knife tighter and waiting for the doorknob to turn. Distant feet thud on hardwood flooring, accompanied by the crazed panting and barely contained whimpers as the victim bumps into the door in fear. The knob jiggles before turning and the door swings open. Frank's eyes meet the shocked face of a young adult, and he marches forward briskly, forcing the man back. In one smooth motion he kicks the door closed with a deafening slam and locks it behind him. The victim was in his boxers and a Fairview Highschool gym shirt. He could ses bloody footprints behind him from where he had stepped in the glass of a broken vase.

"W-wait!!" The man says, backing away as Frank steps confidently forward.

He wanted nothing more than to charge this kid and rip his throat out. But this was good too, watching him cower helplessly away from the monster behind the mask. Frank wanted nothing more than to bask in his fear before letting his guts meet the air.

"F-Frank?"

What?

"Frank fucking Morrison is that you? I know that ugly ass tattoo anywhere!"

The man stops backing away, instead standing his ground and glaring him down. Frank's mind was scrambling to figure out who the fuck this guy was.

"Is this a fucking prank with you and that legion of freaks? You were kicked out of Varsity three-four years ago you piece of shit! Are you just now mad that I-"

His words are cut off my a curved hunting knife stabbing through his neck. Frank watches as Ghostface's gloved hand grabs the man's shoulder and his fingers dig in. Blood drips from the teens mouth and he hears a soft gurgle before Ghostface pushes the knife forward and cuts the man's throat from the inside. The head tilts to the side, dark red blood spraying all over the floor as the heart continues to pump fluid through bulging veins. The body drops to the floor, more blood pooling out of his throat and drifting towards Franks shoes like a crimson wave.

A heavy boot steps over the body and Frank looks up just in time to see a red knife pointed at his face. Hot blood drips down the blade, and Ghostface nods to the warm corpse on the kitchen floor.

He wanted an explanation.

"I-I used to play varsity. I think he was my backup and when I-" The knife presses against his chest, just above his heart. Faster.

"We went to fucking school together! He was a fucking freshman when I dropped out I don't even know his name!"

Ghostface nods curtly, accepting the explanation. Slowly the killer whips his blade on Frank's leather jacket before turning to the body. Now laying in an impressively large pool of blood. Frank stares at it too and is annoyed to find he felt absolutely nothing. He felt a small rush but no fucking climax. Nothing but emptiness filled his body and it just pissed him the fuck off. Of all the fucking people they had watched he had to pick the one fuck who would ruin it?

Ghostface snaps, and Frank looks up to see him point aggressively at the back door.

"Are you mad at me?" Frank sneers, "Did I ruin the big bad Ghostface's kill?"

The killer stares at him like a black hole stares at the sun. Sucking in all the rage Frank had and giving nothing in return.

"Fuck you." He hisses before turning to the back door. This was a waste of his fucking time. He could go out and stab some drunk to death on the street for cheap thrills he didn't need this stupid pageantry.

He jiggles the door handle angrily before remembering he locked it. With a huff he sheaths his knife and unlocks the deadbolt, marching out into the shadows and crouching to sneak away. Behind him he can hear the door gently close. Fuck this guy, fuck all this.

By the time he walks the three blocks to Julie's house he's calmed down a bit. Enough to take his mask, gloves and jacket off before hitting the house. That would look suspicious as all hell. He looks at the familiar lights of the house and feels a sense of calm flow over him. He could use a little social interaction. With his coat and mask bundled under his arm he walks up to the front door and all but kicks it open. Eyes turn to him, and he grins.

"Franky's home!"

A cheer sounds out and he laughs, making his way through the crowd towards Julie's room to drop his stuff. Her and her parents' room was the one place in the house off limits to parties. Except him and the others of course. He drops the jacket and mask on her bed before heading back out to find Joey.

"Frank!"

He turns to see Julie waving him over to the side of her pool. He happily trots over and crouches down, not exactly dressed for a swim.

"Hey nerds."

"Glad you could make it!" Julie says, with a grin. She kicks her feet in the water and Susie emerges from the blue depths.

"Oh Frank! Hey how was hanging with your buddy? Thought you'd be busy with him?"

He shrugs, "Didn't take as long as we thought it would be so I dipped out to make it."

Julie gives him a questioning look, but he's sure Susie would explain later. Susie jumps up next to him and squeezes water out of her hair.

"You're dye is gonna fade faster from all that swimming." Julie teases, leaning back on her hands and kicking her feet.

"You're one to talk! Miss I'm a Redhead But Lets Dye My Hair Orange."

Frank snorts, gently nudging Susie's arm, "Who ended up using all the pink dye, eh? Didn't leave any for Frank."

"You should have just used the rest of Joey's blue dye!"

"And have matching hair with a guy? That's fucking gay."

Before Susie can respond two hands grab Frank under the arms and lift him into the air. He immediately starts squirming in an attempt to escape the inevitable.

"Joey don't you fucking dar-"

The world blurs before going silent as he's tossed into the pool with the same care a man would toss a bag of potatoes into a pickup truck. He pushes off the bottom and emerges to see Joey standing above him and snickering. Dry as a fucking dessert.

"I'm going to end you." Frank threatens, awkwardly bunny hopping to the ladder and climbing out of the pool. His clothes were heavy and dripping water everywhere as he runs at Joey.

He's easily lifted again, but before he can be tossed aside like a wayward trash bag Julie interrupts.

"Frank, someone's calling for you!"

Joey meets his eyes and shrugs, setting him down so he can walk over and take the receiver from Julie. He wrings out his shirt and walks over to a quieter place.

"Hello?"

"Hey Franky." A familiar raspy voice greets. He stiffens, and shuffles further away. Dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Hey uh, Ghosty. How's the...thing going?" Frank asks awkwardly. He really has no idea how to talk to the man now that he was replying.

"Oh you'll see. Listen buddy, I'm sorry this didn't go as planned believe me. But I'll make it up to you." Ghostface practically purrs on the other end of the line. Frank swallows, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"How so?"

"Four days. We meet on Santa Rosa. This ones all yours."

Fuck that was soon. Way out of pattern for Ghostface but who gives a fuck. This was all his.

"Really?" Frank asks, immediately annoyed by how childish and excited he sounded. Ghostface laughs in the other end, and the sound makes his stomach twist.

"I promise." Ghostface coos, "And hey Franky?"

"Yeah?"

"Get dried off. Don't want you catching a cold."

The line dies, and Frank resist the urge to look around the killer he knew he wouldn't spot. He turns and walks back to Julie, putting on an easy grin and passing the phone back.

"Don't worry about-"

"Guys!!" A voice interrupts, "Randy was found dead in his house!!"

Frank lets the grin fall off his face, putting on a mask of shock as the party falls into chaos. Police sirens echo and people start crying. He watches it all unfold like the climax of a movie. People begin crying and screaming, emotions flow forth like a fucking dam breaking. Randy was his name, huh? What a fucking moron.

Julie's house clears out fast, officers driving carfulls of teens home as Frank and company wait upstairs in Julie's room. He moved his jacket and mask to the corner as not to arouse too much suspicion with the others. Susie was sitting on the bed, feet tapping away as she anxiously braids her hair while he and Joey reclined in Julie's bean bag chairs. At least he reclined, Joey looked anxious as hell. Frank wonders if his clothes are done drying yet, he felt weird wearing Julie's hockey jersey but didn't exactly want to go check while she did damage control.

"This is so fucked!" Joey finally says, getting up to anxiously pace the room, "This is so fucked up!"

"Has...has Ghostface ever...killed a teenager?"

Hmm, guess that would freak them out a bit. Randy was surprisingly young for a victim. Maybe Ghostface thought he should take on someone his own size? Guess he didn't expect him to be recognized. Ormond's a small place, and Frank stuck out to his classmates. Of course they'd know him in an instant. He leans back in the beanbag and thinks over the past few hours. It wasn't really that bad. The thrill of fear and excitement was enough for now. To curb him for at least four days.

Watching Ghostface rip the man's throat out like that was something else. It was as clean and methodical as it was gruesome. The scene played over and over in his mind. That and the voice on the phone, promising the next one was all his.

It made him shiver.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cosplay frank and i went to go do makeup for the tattoo saw how fucking ugly it was and Did Not. It's literally so fucking ugly yall.


	7. Feral Frenzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what youre thinking. Another update so soon? Well i felt like right shit yesterday and wrote for 4 hours straight. Youre welcome
> 
> [liza forever minnelli](https://youtu.be/at53K__LcYc)

The media had been absolutely abuzz with this kill. Randy had been the first minor Ghostface had ever killed. Even though in Frank's opinion that barely counted since the guy turned eighteen in two days but hey, it got articles written. Because of the viciousness of this murder a lot of the articles were very tame, probably for the best that people would be actually decent humans for once.

He finishes snipping out the headline and adds it to the wall. It was starting to get rather large now. He would have to go through and rearrange some articles and notes to make it look more aesthetically pleasing but for now it was fine. The whole shrine reminds him of the way kids pin their awards and medals on the wall. Although his real medals were hidden away under his bed.

That was one of Clives perks. He got his own room and was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted with it. Sure Clive fed him a steady diet of junk food and neglect, but it was better than a lot of other homes. He was a decent guy to say the least. Frank backs away from his wall and falls back into his bed.

Those quaaludes were starting to his system pretty hard. He watches the ceiling swirl as he actually relaxes for the first time in days. Sleep had been avoiding him more and more despite not going out stalking every night. His body just wouldn't let him close his eyes and rest or actually relax. Now he was starting to feel nice and drowsy. Distantly he can hear the phone ring and thinks about getting up to answer but he feels too heavy. Maybe he should put on a tape or something to listen to while he zoned out.

"Frank!" Clives voice breaks through the haze and Frank turns to look at him in the doorway.

"Hmm?"

"Phone." Clive says, underhand tossing the receiver to Frank. It lands next to him on the bed. It takes a tremendous effort to raise his hand and grab the phone.

"Hello..." Frank slurs, blinking slowly at the walls of his room.

"Hey Franky." A familiar raspy voice coos. It brings a doofy smile to his face.

"Ghosty 's been a while. You too busy for me now, eh?" Frank says, forcing himself to sit up and stumble to his window.

"A bit. Are you ready for tomorrow?" Ghostface continues after a moment of silence.

"Sure thing babe." Frank slides down the wall and looks out the window, "You outside? Can you see me?"

The trees all seem to blend together no matter how hard he looks around in an attempt to find his favorite little stalker.

"I can see you." Ghostface replies, voice stoic and steady.

He can't help but laugh as if he had told a joke. 'Course he can see him. Frank reaches up and undoes the lock of the window before pushing it open.

"You should come over. I got like...three quaaludes left? You ever take 'em before?" He squints out one last time before getting up and stumbling back into bed and flopping down. He can hear Ghostface breathing on the other end.

"I don't do drugs."

Another giggle escapes him and he nuzzles his pillow. That's unsurprising, he seemed to be the sober type of guy.

"Suit yourself." Frank mumbles, mind starting to drift away, "I'll be ready for tomorrow baby I jus' need some sleep."

The lines dies and he sets the phone on his nightstand. It was pretty late and he expected to sleep until the late afternoon, maybe hang with Joey or Julie a bit before the murder thing. Distantly he hears his window slide shut, then his door click close. Weird. Frank opens his eyes and looks over to see a tall dark figure standing over his desk and staring at his little shrine. Thankfully he didn't feel very embarrassed through the haze in his body.

"Hey Ghosty come here often?" Frank asks before laughing at his own joke. Course the guy hadn't actually been in his house....had he? The thoughts drift away before they can actually sink in too much.

With tremendous effort Frank pushes himself into a sitting position. Ghostface hadn't really moved from the desk. It was kinda weird to see him in his room. Despite moving in with only a bag of clothes Frank had managed to accumulate a decent amount of worldly possessions. Mostly gifts from the gang or things they had shoplifted from the closet mall that was three hours away. The defaced sesame street poster was his personal favorite.

"Ghosty..." Frank begins, immediately forgetting what he was going to say when the mask turns to look at him, "Are you still mad it me?"

The mask shakes its head in a no and Frank sighs in relief. He had been a little worried that the utter fuck up of their first kill had made the killer mad and he wasn't actually going to take him as a protoge-

A gloved hand rests on his shoulder, and he looks up to the white mask. He had zoned out there for a moment, hell probably for a few minutes. The hand gently pushes him back onto the bed as Ghostface looms over him. He couldn't resist even if he tried to. Instead he just stares up the man and feels a faint euphoria.

"I'm gonna go to sleep now, okay? You can stay if you wanna." He slurs out, eyes becoming heavy.

Ghostface nods, and Frank reaches up to take his hand in his own. The glove is warm against his cold skin and Frank entwines their fingers before closing his eyes and drifting off. In the strange haze between total sleep and conscious he can hear a click.

\---

"Frank!"

He's shaken from sleep and cracks his eyes open to see a pair of familiar brown ones.

"Joey? What are you doing in my room?" Is all he can force out. He blinks sleep from his eyes and sits up, feeling incredibly well rested.

"It's like two in the afternoon man. I was afraid you like did or some shit. How many did you take?"

"Two."

"Did you eat before hand?"

Frank grins and gets out of bed. He sure the fuck didn't, but hey it put him right to sleeo so who gives a fuck. And that meant he was much closer to actually commiting a murder today. Joey rolls his eyes in annoyance as Frank shuffles over to his dresser to find a fresh pair of clothing.

"Sleep well?"

"Like a fucking log." He pulls on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of camo pants before turning to Joey, "What's up?"

"Did you really leave your window open?" Joey asks, a frown of concern on his face.

The window was indeed wide open. With a frown he walks over and closes it, sliding the locks into place. He can't really remember much of anything last night. Except for feeling fucking great.

"Guess it was hot in here?"

"Frank you really should be more careful I mean after the whole Randy murder-"

"Lay off."

Joey shuts up and Frank ties his shoes before leading him out of the house before Clive showed up and started yelling slurs. He starts down the street, falling in step with Joey as they make their way down the street. It was empty as usual. Cops had tightened their leash on the town yet again. All of them were positively scrambling to catch the killer and protect the citizens. But people were starting to get real antsy.

"I hear the Robinson's are trying to move away." Frank says staring up at the sky. It was a very beautiful day.

"Yeah, lots of people are thinking about moving or staying with family until it all blows over."

"Lucky for them. Leave anytime they want."

"Welcome to the hotel california..." Joey sings mournfully.

"You can check out anytime you want, but you can never leave."

"You missed a few lines, bud." Joey teases, trotting forward to hold the door open for him at Tim's.

"Eh, sue me." Frank orders himself and Joey a drink, along with a pack of timbits. He immediately devours the food and follows Joey to outside seating to sip his coffee more civilized.

"If you were that hungry you should've gotten a biscuit."

"Nah." Frank replies, sipping his coffee and leaning back in the seat.

"You're gonna rot your damn teeth out of your skull with what you eat."

"Fuck off." Frank replies. His sweet tooth was insatiable, but he at least remembered to brush his teeth every night. He still had nightmares about one of his foster families kids teeth. Utterly disgusting.

A comfortable silence descends between them. He really liked the moments with Joey. Just able to sit around and watch the world go by. Everything had been such a mess since the murder, time was slipping by far to fast but impossibly slow. It had been...at least four months? Things had been getting better with the others, and he was about to relive that sane high tonight.

"Frank...y'know we haven't really...talked about getting out in a while..." Joey's says carefully. Frank continues to stare at the passing clouds.

"Getting out?"

"Of Ormond. That's always been like...our thing y'know."

To say he forgot about that was the wrong words. He had been so wrapped up in the murders and Ghostface that the dream of leaving this shithole and running off to Calgary or Montreal...slipped his mind.

"Dippin' town to soon after Doe would be suspicious..." Frank deflects, swirling his coffee thoughtfully.

"Well thats a Ghostface murder. Now would be the least suspicious time to go!" Joey says, leaning forward in excitement.

He finally look over at Joey. Taking in the serious expression gracing his features. Did he want to leave Ormond? In the beginning with Clive he did. It almost happened when he dumped all of the man's vodka bottles into the kitchen and demanded to be taken back to the foster care system. But Clive refused. He simply bought a safe to store his liquor. Then school started and he realized that at Fairview he was a big fish in a small pond. The only person in the whole fucking town that wasn't born here. No matter where he went people knew him, wanted to be friends with him, they gave him all the attention in the world. Of course when he was expelled the only ones that stuck around were Julie, Joey and Susie. He could leave town when he turned eighteen because he didn't want to leave them. They were all going to leave together as soon as they could.

"We can't just leave, Joey. You nerds are still-"

"We can just leave. I'll drop out."

"What?"

Joey pauses at the sudden harsh tone Frank had taken, "Y'know...just...us."

This was new. And kind of weird actually. He wasn't sure he liked the tone in Joey's voice. It was loaded with a strange...sentimentality.

"Just us?"

"Look Frank I really don't know how else to tell you this but-"

"Hey boys, have a moment?"

Frank feels his fight or flight response kick in, and he sees red. The chair scrapes across the concrete as he stands and marches towards Jed. This man was going to fucking die today-

Joey's hand wraps around his upper bicep and drags him back. He really hated how strong and tall Joey was compared to him, although he was easy on the eyes. Jed stops a few feet away. Just out of attacking range and smiles at Frank gently. His eyes shift to Joey and he can see the smile twist to something dark and evil.

"Jèrèmy I presume?"

"Hey what part of fuck off and die don't you understand!" Frank snaps, tugging against the arm holding him back. He really didn't give a shit if he was arrested for assault busting this man's glasses would more than make up for bail money. Maybe he would strangle the fucker with his stupid scarf.

"Hmm? I believe you didn't tell me to die, but I do remember the fuck off part." Jed admits with a cheerful shrug, "Anyway Jèrèmy I wanted to-"

"Joey."

"Oh! Well Joey-"

"Your accents terrible." Joey interrupts, a small look of hurt crosses Jed's face. Frank relishes in it, "What part of the United States are you from, eh?"

"Oh well I moved up here from Florida but I was born in-"

"That near New York?" Frank interrupts next. Enjoying the way those icey dark eyes shifted to him in barely contained annoyance.

"Well no not really? Closer than-"

"So you're a Southerner? Can you say y'all for us?" Joey adds, barely holding back a snicker as Jed stares at them.

"Whoa, wait a sec. You're from Florida?" Frank starts, nudging Joey with his elbow.

"Hey isn't that where Ghostface is from?" Joey adds, "Are you Ghostface?"

"Oh no! I just report on him! That's why I was sent up here to-"

"Oh so you're like a fanboy?" Frank says, noticing the way Jed narrowed his eyes at him.

"Amature Detective Jed on the case, eh?" Joey adds, jumping onto the joke immediately, "Have you tried asking him out to dinner instead of pestering locals?"

Frank snorts, "Maybe publish a story askin' him for a few double-doubles and a two four. Think he'd fuck you, faggot?"

Joey's grip on his arm loosens and he can see him turn to glare at him out of the corner of his eye. He's more interested in the subtle twitch of Jed's lips as if he had told a funny joke or something. With a quick tug he escapes Joey's grasp and lunges at the man, pulling his knife from the sheath at his belt.

"Frank no-"

Jed's hand catches wrist his in a crushing grip before the knife can reach him. The man leans down ever so slightly until they're only inches apart to be eye level. He watches a certain malicious light shine through the deep brown of Jed's eyes from behind the lenses of his glasses.

"Assault with a deadly weapon is a felony, Frank." Jed whispers in a low and raspy voice that sounded...oddly familiar.

A hand presses against his chest and pushes him away from Jed. He steps back obediently, letting Joey put himself between him and the reporter. He slides the knife back in its sheath, glaring at Jed over Joey's shoulder.

"Frank do not. He's not worth it!" Joey hisses, switching to French and glancing back, "He's just a vulture, ignore him."

"That fuck threatened you!" Frank hisses back.

"Barely. He has nothing on me, no one's going to fucking believe a foreigner."

"But Joey!"

"No. We're leaving." Joey snaps before gripping Frank's shoulder in a vice and turning to Jed who was waiting patiently for them to finish.

"Are you-"

"No. I'm not answering any questions. I don't feel comfortable talking about the murders affecting my hometown Sir." Joey says carefully, physically dragging Frank away from the man.

"Could I quote you on that?" Jed asks, pulling out a notepad.

"Keep me anonymous."

Frank digs his feet into the ground and gives Jed one final glare. The man looks ip from writing to raise his eyebrows curiously.

"I'll rip you're fucking throat out, fucker."

Jed smiles at him. He actually fucking smiles like he had given him the highest compliment one could imagine.

"Thank you for your time, Frank."

Joey tugs Frank around wrapping his arm over his shoulders and walking away quickly. Frank takes a few slow calming breaths, counting to ten in his head. Just like they taught him in therapy. Joey's hand starts rubbing his back but he quickly shoos the comforting action away.

"Why did you even tell him your name, Frank?" Joey asks with a sigh.

"I didn't..." Frank says, running the last few interactions he had with Jed through his head. Had he told him his name? He was sure he hadn't told him anything personal at all. A shudder runs through him at the implication and he shrugs off Joey's arm.

"What the fuck ever." He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, "I forgot my Tims."

"I'll buy you a new one tomorrow."

"...Promise?"

"It's a date."

Frank relaxes, he couldn't let that ruin his day. Maybe he really would kill Jed after this. Surly Ghostface wouldn't mind if he asked nicely to kill one guy.

"Frank?"

"Hmm?" He looks over at Joey and notices a pensive expression on his face. Right he was talking about some heavy before they were rudely interrupted, "Oh shit what were you gonna tell me back there?"

"Oh uh I...forgot." Joey says with a shrug. Frank knows he's lying but decides not to press it.

"Well of you remember let me know tomorrow. I'm gonna head home now." Frank says with a shrug. If it was important Joey would tell him eventually.

"I'll walk you there!"

Frank shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking in silence back home. He waves at Joey as he lets the door close behind him. The only thing he really had to do was sharpen his knife and wait to meet up with the killer for their date. This time he wasn't going to fuck up.

\--

In an unprecedented turn of events, Frank found Ghostface first. The man was close to the spot they had meet up at a few weeks ago. Slowly Frank stalks towards him, keeping low and stepping lightly over leaves and nettles until Ghostface was close enough to touch. He reaches out and rests his gloved hand on the man's shoulder. Frank hears a small muffled gasp and the man whirls around. Knife drawn and poised to strike.

"Hey." Frank whispers with a grin, "Looks like you saw a ghost."

The man lets out a small laugh and relaxes, waving for Frank to sit next to him. He looks up at the house they had first watched. All the lights were off and the car was parked outfront. Not surprising since it was three in the morning. He looks back to Ghostface to ses him pull a bundle of red fabric from the inner pocket of his coat. The man loops the soft scarf around his neck, gloved hands carefully tying the fabric into a bow at his throat.

"What the fuck is this?" Frank snorts, untying the bow and wrapping the scarf around his neck in a less obnoxious way. 

Ghostface reaches forward and runs his cool fingers over Frank's neck, specifically the tattoo. It takes him a moment to realize it's to cover the ink and keep him from getting recognized. The thought almost makes him blush. 

"How sweet, can I keep it?" Frank coos, tilting his head up to give Ghostface more access to his neck. He feels the fingers resting over his jugular before slowly pulling away. 

The white mask nods, and Frank cant help but feel giddy at his new gift. 

"How long we waiting?"

Ghostface holds up three fingers, and Frank sighs. Sitting next to him and getting comfortable. Three hours huh? He could bear it this time, since he was promised blood.

"Hey Ghosty, do you always follow me home?" Frank asks, deciding now was as good a time as ever to make small talk.

The man holds up a hand and rocks it back and forth.

"Sometimes?"

A nod. It wasn't anything new to him, he assumed that this guy got his kicks. To be fair, Frank enjoyed the fact that he was being watched. He loved the attention.

"Not every time? Could be missing somethin' fun." Frank coos, knowing damn well all he did was go home shower and sleep.

Although that does catch Ghostface's attention since the man looks at him and tilts his head curiously. Frank stares back with the grinning mask until Ghostface rolls his hand in a go on motion.

"You'll have to see for yourself." He waits a few beats before adding, "Unless you ask nicely."

Ghostface shakes his head and turns back to the house. Figures it was worth a shot. He turns his attention back to the house, mind wandering off as he waits with shocking patience. This would make Ghostface's sixth victim, technically. He couldn't remember how many he killed in Florida or the rest of the states, but he had to be ready to move on soon right? Ormond was a small town he couldn't hide forever. Eventually some competent people would come to investigate the case, that was the reason he had left his previous hunting ground. Frank glances at the still figure and wonders where he would go next.

A light turns on upstairs and Ghostface jumps to his feet, moving halfway across the yard before Frank can even sit up. He quickly falls instep behind the man, heart racing in excitement. The man makes his way over to the car, sidling over to the passenger door and opening it with a key he produces from a pocket. He waves his hand gesturing for Frank to get in. Grand Theft Auto was a weird crime for Ghostface to commit but whatever, he hops into the passenger seat of the four door and Ghostface gently closes the door. It was a nice car actually, looked to be only a few years old compared to Joey's beat up truck. Leather seats and everything. The back door opens and Ghostface climbs into the driver side back seat. Frank watches him duck down, blending in seamlessly to the shadows.

"Wait for your signal?" Frank asks quietly, taking his gloves off before slipping his knife out and squeezing it.

Ghostface nods and Frank lets out a slow breath. This was it. After almost five months he was going to kill again. Silence falls in the small space, he can't even hear Ghostface's light breaths over the pounding of his heart in his chest. This time no mistakes, no hesitation, and no fucking mercy.

This is no place for cowards.

The door to the house opens, and a man in a suit steps out. He was holding a tumbler of coffee and a briefcase as he walks to the car and unlocked the door. He hears him sigh and he sits down in the driver's seat, inches away from death and none the wiser. The drivers door slams shut and the man goes to set the briefcase in the passenger seat only to brush Frank's arm. He can hear the door lock, and meets the confused and tired eyes of the business.

"Who the fuck are-"

Ghostface sits up and Frank watches his arms go over the man's head and pull him back against the seat by the throat. He watches a garrote wire cut into the tender flesh of the man's neck as he chokes out a garbled cry.

"Pl-please d-don't h-" The killer pulls tighter, and jerks his head at Frank. That was a signal if he ever saw one.

Frank raises the knife. The shaking blade flashes menacing and bright in the moonlight as Frank impales it into the man's chest once. It makes a sound similar to stabbing a watermelon. He makes sure to hit him on the right side, so he doesn't kill him immediately.

The choked screams of pain echo in his ears as he brings the knife down into the soft flesh of the victims belly again, and again, and again.

Dark blood flows freely from the deep wounds, coating his knife and running over his fingers. It feels as if the blood its burning his flesh and staining his very soul a deep irreversible crimson. He watches the wire loosen ever so slightly and the victim draws a weak and watery breath, unwittingly prolonging its nightmare. Tears slide down its face and its eyes beg for mercy as a hand weakly reaches towards Frank's blade.

He shoves the knife into the victim's body up to the hilt, just below the sternum. He steadies his grip on the slick handle and drags the sharpened blade down until he cuts the leather upholstery of the seat. He listens to the slick sound of its guts writhing out of its body and falling onto the floor of the car. Steam rises from the flayed body, so much like the janitor back then. The gagging noises stop and the body goes limp. Frank lets out a guttural growl and sits back in the passenger seat. A steady wet dripping noise emanates from the corpse, mingling with Frank's heavy breathing. His gaze drops from the body to his hands. They shine under the glow of the street lights; a deep almost black crimson color. Soaking into his bandages as if it were his own blood. Without thinking he wipes the back of his hand on his mask, and lets out a slow shaking breath.

Life pumps through his veins like a forest fire. His entire body is shaking in pure fucking euphoria. This was better than any drug, any high. Better than his first kill, better than anything he had ever felt before. He wipes the knife on the white shirt of the businessman and tucks it into the sheath. The door at his back opens, dropping him unceremoniously ass first onto the curb. The stars in the sky are bright and white, flickering with slight green tendrils. He looks up at Ghostface and smiles under the mask.

"Hey." His voice was shaking and breathless, "Y'know it's actually my birthday today."

Ghostface nudges him with a boot and Frank attempts to get to his feet only to be pushed down to his knees by a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, and Ghostface makes a stay motion before wandering over to the car to set up the scene. Frank sits on the curb, trying to collect his frenzied thoughts. God he felt fucking great. What a way to turn twenty, eh?

Eventually Ghostface comes back around and holds a hand out. Frank takes it and lets Ghostface pull him up to his feet. He turns to see that the killer had ziptied the victims hands to the wheel so it looked like it was driving.

"That's fucked up."

Ghostface pushes him away and he figures they had lingered long enough. He follows after the black shadow as he makes his way to the treeline, ducking into the bushes and out of sight with Frank on his heels. The man turns to look at him, and give him a thumbs up. For some reason the simple gesture makes Frank's heart swell. Awkwardly he returns the thumbs up and starts on his way home. The walk is quiet, almost peaceful.

The house is a tomb when Frank gets there. Clive is home but dead asleep in his room. Just like last time. He stands in the washroom, dried blood coating his hands and mask as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. Black eyes stare back at him with a broad mocking grin. The skull on his neck glares at him too.

He was alive.

He was real.

Frank looks at his hands, and perceives them as his own. He takes the mask off, dropping it into the sink with a soft clatter.

He looks up at his own face, so unlike the mask he wore. No smile to grace his lips and no darkness in his eyes. Just an expressionless void and dead blue eyes.

That wasn't real.

He looks down and starts the faucet. Warm water splashes onto the mask, running red as the blood washes away. Once the mask is white again he removes it and his bandages before putting his stained hands under the burning water.

Red, then pink, then clear.

All down the drain.

He turns the faucet off, and the shower on.

Carefully rinsing blood off his leather jacket before stripping to stand under the cold stream of water. He runs his hands over his face, and lets out a deep sigh. He never wanted this feeling to end.

Once that water runs clean he drops his soiled clothing in the hamper in his room before pulling on a pair of boxers and wrapping the scarf around his neck, inhaling the deep smell of Ghostface. He almost misses the note on his nightstand.

'Happy Birthday, Frank. Hope you liked your present.

\- XOXO'

Folded in the paper was a polaroid of him sleeping. He was wearing the same shirt he had been last night and the sheets were the same. Meaning this had been taken when he was on those quaaludes earlier. He flips the photo over to find additional writing.

'Thought you looked cute. Don't worry, I didn't touch you. I'm no monster.'

Cute...that was a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O fuck what waa joey gonna say? The suspense is killing me!
> 
> The office worker isnt Dwight but if you want him to be well, >:3c


	8. Lasting Perfume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you all have been waiting for. 
> 
> No not that one, the other one
> 
> [obsessed with you](https://youtu.be/_c_gb7xkXDg)

Frank slept a good four hours that night. Waking up with his body thrumming with energy at eleven sharp. Clive delivered him a half assed happy birthday on his way the door after his morning shots, which was more than he usually did. He turns the TV on just in time for a breaking story of a man found stabbed to death in his car. A smile lights his face as he watches from the kitchen, enjoying a birthday breakfast of chocolate cake frosting right from the can with a butter knife.

"Mr. Bouvain was found stabbed to death in his car early this morning. His work called home asking why he was absent and when his wife came out she was met with a grisly sight."

A few images of the house flash on the screen, and Frank feels an overwhelming sense of pride in his work at just how much of the car they had to blur out.

"We are on scene with officer Dewey, the lead investigator of the Ghostface-"

The phone rings, and Frank picks it up.

"Feels nice, doesn't it." A familiar voice coos.

"Yeah...thank's for the scarf." Frank says, glancing around the house. He wonders if his stalker could see him or was just making a guess at what he was watching.

"You're welcome. So, how old are you turning?"

"You tell me."

"Twenty. At least once the clock strikes five am."

He lets out an impressed whistle, "Wow down to the hour. That info come cheap?"

"Easier than it should've." Ghostface admits. That pulls a slight laugh from Frank as he scoops out more frosting from the can.

"Well either way I'm still legal." He licks the chocolate and sugar off the knife as he listens to the killers steady breaths; wondering just how much Ghostface knew about him. He imagines the guy did his homework, might as well test him.

"What's my blood type?"

"B negative."

"Star Sign?"

"Taurus. A Virgo moon."

He didn't know what the fuck a moon sign was but the conviction in his voice was impressive. He would believe it.

"Where was I born?"

"Calgary, at the Foothills Medical Centre. You were only three pounds at birth and needed immediate corrective heart surgery."

Frank stares at the images on TV. It was probably bad that this shit was just starting to freak him out a little bit.

"Frank Daniel Morrison. I really like that name, by the way." Ghostface adds in response to Frank's silence. It sends a shiver down his spine, but in a good sort of way.

"Thanks, what's yours?"

"Oh I'm sure you've heard it before. It's very common."

He rolls his eyes, figures he would say something like that.

"Is it Jeff?"

"Hmm, close."

"David?"

"On the right track."

Frank hums, running through a few names in his head. What were Americans usually named? Shit like George right? He had never talked on the phone with this guy for so long it was kinda fun to learn about him outside of body language.

"Gimme a hint, Ghosty."

"It starts with the letter D, and ends in a Y."

His mind snaps to a very wrong place, and he bites his tongue in an attempt to not say what he thought out loud. But unfortunately he couldn't actually think of any other names similar to that.

"Oh? C'mon Frank share with the class."

"Daddy?"

"Kinky."

"Fuck off." He snaps, rolling his eyes and dropping the knife in the sink, returning his breakfast to the cabinet before walking over to the couch to lie down. The news had moved onto to more interviews with families of the victim, real heart wrenching shit.

"Not into that stuff?"

He shrugs, then remembers Ghostface can't actually see him. Probably.

"Can't have a daddy kink when I've never had a dad."

"Not really how that works, Franky."

"How does it work then, eh?" Frank asks, finding himself surprisingly curious about this topic.

"It's a power dynamic thing. Master does just as well for most, daddy just has a...what's the phrase? Je ne sais quoi?"

"Huh." He replies. That made a lot of sense actually. In the times he had gotten down and dirty with another person there wasn't anything like that. Maybe he would like it if the person was more submissive. Or maybe if he was in that position.

"Are you into that?" He asks.

There's a pause on the line as Ghostface breaths softly. The silence starts to make him feel like he asked the wrong thing and offended the killer. Hopefully he didn't hang up.

"Would you like to find out?" Ghostface finally returns his question. Frank bites his lip and wonders how far he was willing to take this weird flirting. It was different when he couldn't enjoy the show of emotions on the other person's face as he made them flustered. It felt more personal now, like he was actually interested in the topic at hand.

He had a weird relationship with dating and sex. Didn't need to be a psychologist to understand that he was not normal. Never touched himself, and the couple time he did have sex with a few girls and guys it was...alright? Almost forgettable. Hell the closest friends he had ever had were the gang, and the thought of even kissing any of them made him sick to his stomach. He could barely bring himself to touch them half the time. But maybe it would be different with Ghostface.

"What are you? My sex ed teacher?" Frank deflects, deciding to shy away from the topic.

"You've never been fucked before, have you Frank?"

Well there goes that plan. He didn't mind the pressure though, it was giving him fun and new sensations in his stomach and dick. Besides, it was his birthday might as well indulge.

"I've taken it once or twice." He replies with a sly grin, knowing it would get under Ghostface's skin.

"Who was it." Ghostface shoots back, voice becoming dark and cold.

"One of my foster families sons. I barely remember him. Think you can do better?"

"Yes." Ghostface replies immediately, voice low and husky.

His stomach twists, and he lets out a slow breath. Fuck that was...that did a weird thing to him. Nervously he chews his lip and sits up on the couch, glancing around as if he could find Ghostface watching him that easily. These new feelings were very overwhelming all of a sudden and for the first time he wanted them to stop.

"Hey Franky?"

"Yeah?" Frank's voice comes out soft and breathless, so he clears his throat.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What door am I at?"

His eyes widen and he looks over at the closed front door. That would be too obvious. There was really only one answer.

"Backdoor."

"Wrong."

Frank scoffs and gets off the couch, marching towards the back door, "There's only two-"

He passes the garage door and stops in his tracks. Turning to stare at it with a sense of foreboding. How long had he been inside his house...

"Garage?"

"Good boy."

A shudder runs through him at the praise as he reaches for the knob and pulls the door open. Ghostface is standing in the threshold, a cell phone held in his hand. The other hand raises and waves playfully. Frank ends the call on his own phone and lowers it from his face. He really didn't like being in front of the killer in just his boxers, a shirt, and the scarf he just got. Fuck he didn't even have a knife on him.

"Hey."

Ghostface tilts his head and steps inside, looking around his house in feigned interest. He had obviously been in here before. Frank sets the receiver on the counter and crosses his arms. There was a weird tension in the air.

"Uh, do you...want something to drink?"

The killer shakes his head and makes his way down the hall and to Frank room. He stops at the door and looks back expectantly. Without a second thought he walks down the hall and lets him in. Ghostface saunters inside his room and immediately takes a seat on his bed. Frank pulls his desk chair out and sits down, crossing his arms and staring at the killer, who stares back. For the first time he notices something tucked under his arm.

"What ya got there, bud?"

Ghostface tosses it underhand at Frank and a newspaper lands neatly in his lap. It was the Calgary Sun and the headline was front and center.

'Ghostface Killer Strikes at Ormond Again.'

He skims the article, a small smile appearing on his face at the graphic descriptions of the victim in the house. Complete with heartfelt quotes from the parents of the deceased, vowing to find the man that killed their son. His eyes alight on the name of the author, souring his mood. He looks up to see Ghostface tilting his head curiously.

"Hey Ghosty...can I ask you a favor?" Frank asks in a light tone. He was going to try a new manipulation tactic.

The mask nods, and makes a go on motion.

"So there's this guy..." He starts, pausing to let his stalker stew for a bit, "He's been pestering me a lot. You might've seen him. Brown hair, dorky glasses, names Jed. American?"

Ghostface perks up and nods, Frank licks his lips in excitement. He had to approach this carefully.

"He's a real piece of work, feels like he stalks me more than you do." Frank says, allowing the seeds of jealousy to plant themselves in Ghostface's mind, "I was wondering if we could kill him...together."

He hears a sharp intake of breath and Ghostface nods immediately. Frank grins and is about to start making plans until Ghostface holds a hand up for him to stop. Then beckons him over. He cautiously stands and approaches, looking down at the killer curiously. A gloved hand reaches up and rests on his upper bicep, slowly running down his bare arm.

"You don't work for free, eh?" Frank asks.

Ghostface nods, and Frank can easily figure out what the killer wants from him, judging by the talk on the phone earlier. Frank wasn't sure how it was going to work, he didn't exactly stock condoms in his room for these occasions. He leans down until he's only a few inches away from the mask, listening to the slow and steady breaths of the man below the scream.

"What do you want, Ghosty?"

He can hear an almost imperceptible hitch in Ghostface's breath, it brings a rush of confidence to his actions. Sure, he hadn't had a lot of sexual experience but he could fake it till he made it. This guy probably spent most of his days jacking it to his victims morning routine.

Two hands rest on his shoulders and gently press down. Frank obediently sinks to his knees, tilting his head up to look keep Ghostface's blank gaze. The head tilts expectantly.

Alright, blow job. He can do this, a small price to pay for stabbing that reporter to death. He sets his hands on Ghostface's knees, pushing the coat aside to run his fingers over the man's thighs. The mask stares down at him, impassive as ever. Hr drags his fingers further up to brush the leather mens belt. The hands on his shoulders give him an encouraging squeeze, and Frank looks down to unbuckle the thing with as little fumbling as he can manage. He was a bit nervous after all.

He shifts the heavy coat aside, noting that Ghostface tucks his shirt in like a loser, and he unbuttons the jeans. The killer shifts above him, and Frank takes the time to push spread his legs so he can sit closer. He probably shouldn't just...whip it out and start sucking, right? There was like foreplay and all. Hesitantly he palms Ghostface's crotch, surprised to find the guy was already kinda hard.

"Aw, that from talkin' to me?" Frank teases, looking up as he continues to rub through his pants.

The man nods, and Frank feels his pulse sped up. Fuck, that was...nice? He had wound some people at parties up pretty bad with his flirting, but they never actually admitted it. He looks forward and unzips Ghostface's pants. No use blushing over a compliment like that, he had dick to suck. Frank tugs the man's jeans and boxers down enough to pull his dick free, making a mental note that Ghostface probably had brown hair.

"Don't be offended, but your dick looks weird." Frank comments, he'd seen a good amount of cocks in his life and this was the weirdest looking one of them all, "Are you circumcised?"

He hears an aggravated sigh from under the mask, and looks up to catch the curt nod. Weird, guess it was an American thing. Curiously he runs a thumb over the head of Ghostface's dick before slowly stroking it a few times, savoring the heavy breathing above him. How many noises could he get out of Ghostface with just his mouth? Only one way to find out.

Frank leans in and flicks his tongue lightly over Ghostface's cock. A light squeeze from the hand on his shoulder is a good sign. He moves closer and runs his tongue up the length of the mans cock, earning a pleased gasp from the man above him. Ghostface had a pretty big dick, not like monstrously big but he wasn't too sure he could actually fit it into his mouth completely. A hand on his shoulder trails up run through his hair before tugging gently. Better speed this shit up. He takes a slow breath before taking Ghostface's cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around as best he can. He feels a tightness in his throat and tries to push past hist gag reflex. Above him he hears a soft gasp, and the fingers in his hair tighten. With a surge of confidence he gently sucks and takes more of Ghostface's cock into his mouth. He looks up to the impassive mask, staring into the downturned eyes as he pulls back and laps at the wet head of Ghostface's cock.

The man tugs at his hair, and he hears a muffled moan from below the mask. Frank grins, and takes another breath before attempting to take the entirety of Ghostface's cock. Immediately Frank pulls in a flurry of coughs and choking noises. He swallows and tries to catch his breath. A glance upwards reveals Ghostface staring down at him and he feels a flash of embarrassment.

"Fuck off its my first time." He huffs about to go back sucking Ghostfaces cock when the hand in his hair stops him. He looks up to see Ghostface tilt his head questioningly.

"I've never sucked a dick alright." Frank admits, rolling his eyes in annoyance, "It's not that bad, I can hear you up there!"

Ghostface pushes Frank away and stands, tucking his dick back into his pants and looking around the room. Frank's face falls into a frown, and he wonders if he was actually that bad at giving head. A shuffling noise causes him to turn to see Ghostface digging through his desk.

"Do you fucking mind?" Frank snaps, earning a middle finger from the killer. He glares at him and stands, noticing for the first time that he was actually getting a bit of a boner from just lapping at another dudes dick.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps, god this freak was so quiet. A piece of paper is shoved into his hand, and he's tempted to crumple it up and throw it away. But he was a curious guy.

'I'll show you how it's done.'

Oh. Oh shit. He looks up at Ghostface, and the man tilts his head before gently pushing Frank down to sit on the bed instead. For the first time he sees plain black strip of cloth in Ghostface's hand. Figures he wasn't going to be that lucky. He licks his lips and ever so subtly opens his legs.

Ghostface accept his invitation, stepping forward and tying the blindfold around his eyes with surprising gingerness. Immediately his heart starts to pound at the feeling of being exposed in front of a killer. He hears a shuffling noise and his door close, the lock clicking shut. Moments later he hears the curtains move closed too before footsteps approach him again. The silence is overwhelming, literally being left in the dark was making his skin tingle and stomach twist in anxiety. He grips the sheets and almost flinches when he hears the sound of fabric shifting. Something is set on the bed next to him.

Cautiously he reaches over and runs his fingers over the cool cheap plastic of the iconic mask. Curiosity burned inside of him. Who was the man behind the mask? The temptation to rip the blindfold off was almost too much to resist, his other hand twitches upward.

An icy blade presses against his throat.

"I won't." Frank whispers, forcing his hands to still at his side, "Promise."

The knife moves away and he relaxes ever so slightly. Two hands rest on his knees and push his legs apart, much rougher than Frank had been moments earlier. He takes a slow breath as the warm leather gloves run up his thighs, pausing to trace one of the tattoos on his leg before sliding up to the waistband of his boxers. There's no hesitation as Ghostface tugs the loose fabric down and pulls his dick out.

He bites back a small moan, instead letting out a soft gasp of pleasure as Ghostface manhandles his dick with a few quick and hard strokes. The man gently taps his pubic hair before reaching up to run his free hand through Frank's hair.

"What? Thought I was a natural blond?" Frank teases, trying to keep his voice steady despite Ghostface skillfully jerking him off.

He hears a laugh and feels the man move closer as his strokes slow, causing him to tense up in anticipation. A warm breath washes over dick and he bites his lip. Ghostface waits a few beats before his tongue flicks against the head of Frank's cock. He can't help but let out a small whimper, fists balling in the sheets. Below him Ghostface lets out a breath chuckle.

"Shut the fuck up." Frank snaps, voice sounding very nonthreatening when filled with desire.

Ghostface swirls his tongue over the head of Frank's cock, sending shocks of raw pleasure through his body. He curses, letting out a few pants at the slow and meticulous movements. The man's tongue runs up the bottom of Frank's cock, mimicking his previous motions but with much more skill and finesse than Frank had shown. God he was even doing it slowly, really showing him how to suck dick like a champ. Ghostface's takes his cock into his mouth and Frank finally lets out needy moan. The sound is so gross and horny he forgets Ghostface's previous threat and brings a hand up to cover his mouth.

The man pulls off immediately, causing Frank to whimper at the loss of pleasure as his hand is yanked away from his face.

"You-You wanna hear me?" Frank asks, looking down uselessly. A gentle kiss to the head of his cock is his answer. It could almost be mistaken for romantic if Frank wasn't smarter than that.

"God you're a fucking freak." He says, trying to maintain a bit of his dignity, despite how needy he sounded.

The taunts backfire when Ghostface literally deepthroats his cock, Frank can feel the mans stubble against his thighs as he gasps in shock.

"Oh....fuck!" He groans, hunching over the man and blindly grasping at his hair.

It was thick and vaguely curly, probably could use some dry shampoo or a wash. He runs both hands through the locks, gripping desperately and rocking his hips forward as he continues to moan and curse desperately. Ghostface swallows around his cock, the sensation was like electricity flowing through him. Then he bobs his head slightly and Frank cums with a weak whimper. He can feel the man swallow around him, and drops his hands to Ghostface's shoulders as he pulls off Frank's dick with a wet noise.

"H-holy shit." Frank pants, laying back on the bed and trying to steady his breathing. He hears the shuffling of fabric and turns his head to where he things Ghostface is.

Gloved hands run up his thighs before gripping his hips and pushing him further up the bed. Frank pushes himself on his elbows as he feels Ghostface position himself between his legs. Right, right, he doesn't work for free.

"There's Vaseline in the top drawer of my nightstand." Frank offers, wiggling out of his boxers and tossing them aside. He can hear a eagar breath from Ghostface as the man leans over him and his drawer opens.

"Can I take the blindfold off, Ghosty?"

There's the sound of movement above him and he can hear a few shuffling noise as Ghostface...does something. A hand ghosts over his cheek and tugs the blindfold up. He squints in the darkened room at the mask, and is handed another note.

'Safeword?'

Frank snorts, tossing the note aside and crossing his arms behind his head, "Don't need one. Do what you want."

Ghostface shakes his head, and remains resolutely still. He frowns and sits up, running a hand down the mans chest to slip down his waistband. Immediately his hand is grabbed and Ghostface shakes his head.

"Fine...fine. How about stop?"

Another headshake.

"Creep." Frank rolls his eyes and thinks for a minute, "Uhh, red?"

Ghostface nods, and Frank grins.

"Now try to make me use it, Ghosty."

The low growl emits from the mask, and Ghostface grabs his leg. Bringing it up over his shoulder before pulling his gloves off to reveal lightly tanned hand. Frank watches with interest as Ghostface dips two fingers in the Vaseline. It had been a while since he bottomed, the last time was before he moved up to Ormond. Hell since he lived here he hadn't really gotten his dick wet. Just weird drunk handjobs he kind of hated. Not that he wanted to. Ghostface taps his shoulder and he looks at him curiously. The man inclines the mask down and tilts his head.

"Oh uh, go ahead. I have stamina so I can go like two more times." Frank says, relaxing as best he can and waiting for the other to get to work.

A slick warm finger slides inside of him and he tenses up momentarily, hissing softly before relaxing as much as he can with the discomfort of a finger in his ass. Ghostface wiggles the finger around a bit before adding a second one. This one stings a bit more, but the Vaseline does a good job of making it slide in easily. He can feel his cock start to twitch back to life at the stimulation, especially when Ghostface thrusts his hand at just the right angle. Soon enough Frank his breathing heavily and grinding onto the twitching fingers. Ghostface takes the hint and pulls them out, wiping them off on the bed before scooping more Vaseline from the container and slicks a generous amount over his cock. Frank can hear him let out a pleased sigh as he does so.

"Do that often?" Frank asks innocently, earning a stern look from the mask as Ghostface presses the tip of his dick against his entrance. A few moments pass before he realizes the man is waiting for his permission.

"Go ahead."

Frank moans as Ghostfaces cock slides into him, the man moves slowly to give him time to adjust. He couldn't remember it feeling this good last time, sex was starting to sound very fucking appealing if it was always this good. He grits his teeth and lets out a breath as he relaxes under Ghostface's still body. The mans warm hands trail up his stomach and chest, gently brushing over his nipples and eliciting a small gasp from him. He looks up at the mask, and smirks at the killer.

"Still think you can do better?" He taunts, knowing damn well the man was already doing so much better. The black pits stare into his own eyes, and then Ghostface pulls the blindfold down over his eyes again.

Ghostface's first thrust makes Frank see stars. His moaning gets trapped in his throat as he feels two hands come down next to his head as he sets a brutal pace. Each thrust is quick and hard, he doesn't pull out all the way only enough that when he slams back in it rocks the bed against the wall. He wraps his arms desperately around Ghostface, digging his nails into the thick fabric of his overcoat as he moans steadily with each hard thrust. He trails a hand up and grips the killers short hair in desperation, tugging at it and earning low moan from the silent man

Fuck Ghostface sounded really fucking nice when he wasn't muffled by the mask. Sure it wasn't a word or anything but it still made him squirm. All he wanted from the man right now besides for him to not stop, was for him to say something to him. He didn't give a fuck about what he looked like at this point he just wanted to hear his praises.

"Ghosty c-c'mon give me something. Talk to me baby." Frank chokes out through small moans. "I can't just scream for Ghostface, tell me something to call you."

Ghostface growls in his ear as a hand twists itself into Frank's hair and pulls back hard. The man all but slams his face into Frank's, their teeth clack painfully together as Ghostface practically shoves his tongue down Frank's throat. He kisses back with a certain neediness, gripping the hood of Ghostface's cowl and dragging him closer. The mans stubble scratches his chin as he pulls back to bite and suck Frank's lip. He can feel his steady warm breaths against his skin and smell a heavy musty perfume as he pulls away. Ghostface's thrusts slow down, becoming deeper and causing waves of pleasure to roll through Frank. A warm slick tongue runs over his exposed neck before he yelps in pain when teeth sink into the wet flesh.

Frank practically screams in pleasure, arching his back and rocking against the man's hips as he Ghostface suck on his neck like a vampire. Slowly working his way down until his teeth scrape Frank's collarbone. He squirms under the bites, pain in pleasure crossing wire in his brain that aren't meant to be crossed as he starts losing any and all dignity. He does feel the blindfold slipped down from his thrashing and collects himself enough to yank Ghostface's head away from his neck so he can fix it.

He whines when the man sits up, thrusts slowing until he's simply rolling his hips against him as he adjusts the blindfold to cover his eyes again.

"D-don't fucking stop you stupid cunt." Frank growls as menacing as a man begging to be fucked can growl.

A warm hand grips his throat loosely, and a grin spreads across Frank's face.

"You're a fucking freak."

Ghostface squeezes, and Frank feels like he's reached a new level of ecstasy. He paws at Ghostface's chest for lack of anything better to do with his hands as he starts to feel light headed. The hand lets up and he sucks in a breath of air just as Ghostface starts to thrust into him again.

"Harder." Frank demands, earning a low laugh from the man above him as the hand on his neck cuts off his air supply.

A few moans manage to escape his lips despite the lack of oxygen, and Frank knows he can't take much more. All those years of never jacking off or fucking were really making him look like a lightweight. Although he was still sensitive from earlier he slowly trails a hand down and grabs his own dick. Gasping when he's allowed a few breaths of air and awkwardly pumping his dick.

The display must be a particularly pathetic sight, as Ghostface knocks his hand away and takes over. Skillfully stroking Frank's dick with one hand and choking him out with the other. All while fucking him senseless. He hears a particularly loud groan from above and the man thrusts stutter ever so slightly. As soon as he's allowed a breath of air Frank starts talking.

"Are you getting close, Ghosty?" Frank teases, voice raspy from repeated asphyxiation, "You can cum in me if you want."

His air is cut off again, the hand closing harder than ever as Ghostface breaks his careful tempo to ram into Frank. Colors flash against the dark of his closed eyes and he tenses, arching his back and letting out a muffled scream as he cums again. Ghostface releases his throat and softening dick only to grab his hips in a bruising strength, ramming into him harder than ever. Frank coughs and twitches, unable to roll his hips or reciprocate as pain and pleasure continue to tear through him. Tears leak out of his eyes and he whimpers as Ghostface stills above him. Frank can feel warm cum inside him for the first time. The sensation alone make him whimper.

"R-red."

Ghostface laughs, and Frank feels him shift above him before his blind fold is removed and the cooling jizz wiped off of his belly. He lays still and lets Ghostface pull out, groaning at the odd sensation and pangs as his still shaking legs are dropped. This was almost as good as stabbing that guy to death. He hears Ghostface adjust his belt before actually laying down and pulling him into a hug.

That's weird. Frank opens his eyes and looks up at the impassive mask with a frown. He can hear steady and content breathing behind the plastic. He sits still for a minute or two, letting Ghostface have his fun before extracting himself from the man's arms and scooting off the bed to retrieve his boxers.

"I'm getting some cereal, you want anything?" He rasps out, wincing at the soreness in his lower half and neck. He looks to see Ghostface shaking his head.

"Alright. Feel free to dip when I'm out." Frank shrugs and walks gingerly to the door, "Didn't think you'd be that good of a fuck, eh?"

He almost lets the door close before remembering why he fucked the guy in the first place. He turns and pokes his head back in to see the man in the same spot.

"Don't forget, killing Jed. Maybe like...Thursday? Whenever your free."

Ghostface nods and he smiles, making his way to the kitchen to pour a bowl of Frosted flakes. He's three bites in when Clive walks through the door.

"You're home early."

"Its four."

Damn, time flies when you're getting your brains fucked out by a serial killer. He was going to meet up with Julie at six today. Clive frowns at him and sniffs the air, eyes drifting to his neck.

"You smell like a whore after a full days work."

Frank grins and takes a bite of cereal, "Thanks."

His foster dad smiles, "Atta boy! Was it the red head?"

"Nope."

"Pink girl."

"No."

"Huh...I know her?"

Frank shakes his head, "Maybe you've seen her around. Tall, wears all black."

"Fuckin' goth bitches in my house? You use protection?"

"Always do." Frank says, picking his bowl up and making his way to his room.

He should shower and get dressed so he could make it to his totally a surprise party at six. He opens the door to his room and is mildly surprised to find Ghostface still in his room, leaning on his desk. That was weird. He didn't take the killer for cuddler or the sentimental type.

"Hey..." Frank greets, kicking the door closed and sipping at his sugary milk, "You like...got anything better to do?"

The man shakes his head, staring at Frank unrelentingly. Well, he had shit to do so Ghostface could hang around all fucking day if he wants to. He finishes the rest of his milk and sets the bowl on his nightstand before making his way to his dresser to grab a change of clothing.

"Clive is home so y'know don't let him see you. 'preciate it if you don't kill him." Frank says as he tucks the bundle under his arm, "Call me later."

He catches sight of himself in the washroom mirror and pauses to take in the sight. Unsurprisingly his neck was dotted with large reddish purple bruises trailing downwards, along with a vaguely hand shapes red mark over his tattoo. Hopefully that faded in a few hours. He didn't mind the hickeys too much though, but maybe he would wear a turtleneck to at least appear decent. One shower later he feels much cleaner, but still a little sore. Thankfully Ghostface had finally decided to fuck off back to his day job.

He had a party to get to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic feels like the plot of a Seinfeld episode from hell. 
> 
> This chapter is literally just a bunch of porn. Usually ppl gotta pay me for this shit. 
> 
> Also the fact that i made franks birthday is 4/20 was an accident.


	9. Never-Sleep Pills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter. Next one should be longer

"Jesus fucking Christ Frank did a dog attack you or what?" Are the first words out of Julie's mouth when she opens the door.

"Wow, a happy birthday would've sufficed." Frank jokes, pushing his way into the house and waving to Susie on the couch. He tugs the neck of his shirt up higher.

"Happy birthday!" Susie calls mockingly, tossing a couch pillow with perfect accuracy at Frank's head. He catches it and throws it back as hard as he can, missing the pink monstrosity by a mile.

"God I can't believe you're really two decades old." Susie teases, "Oh hey Joey's in the kitchen and..." She trails off, tilting her head in confusion.

Frank turns to see Julie running a hand through her hair casually. Why did Julie tell her to shut up just then at the mention of Joey. He turns toward the kitchen to find out.

"Oh don't go in there yet!" Julie says quickly, jumping in front of him with her hands up, "You uh...can't see your cake yet?"

"Really?" Frank asks, dropping his tone to flat unamusement. Julie immediately starts fidgeting.

"Just hang out here for a bit! I'll go grab it!" She says, backing off into the kitchen and away from his wrath. He really needed to find a reason to blow up on them soon. They had gotten far to cozy with him.

He sits on the couch, wincing slightly before leaning back and resting his arms over the end. Susie looks mildly concerned about what's going on in the kitchen, but turns to smile at him anyway.

"What's that on your neck?" She asks as the poodle rounds the corner and runs at Frank leaping into his lap and licking his face.

"Aww who's a good boy!" Frank coos, petting the dog happily. Hard to believe this dog was the reason he even met Ghostface.

"They're hickeys." He replies before returning to to hugging the yapping poodle, "I love you Bon-bon!" He coos in French, earning happy yaps from the animal.

Susie gasps and turns to face him on the couch, face lighting up in excitement, "Oooh! From who!!"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Frank rolls his eyes, pausing his whispering sweet nothings into Bon-bon's ears.

"They really did a number on you, Frank." Susie says, leaning in a bit to get a better look, "Was it fun?"

He winks at her and she snorts, shaking her head. Her smile immediately fades as if she just realized her mom died or something.

"S-so are you two serious?"

"Huh?"

"The person who gave you those?"

That was a good question actually. Technically he only fucked Ghostface so he could get help killing that other guy, didn't mean it was serious. It ended up being a suprsingly good experience, he should use physical sex for manipulatuon more often. He would say his relationship with Ghostface as a whole was pretty damn serious, fucking being a recent development

"Mm, we're kinda like friends with benefits now." Frank admits, glancing toward the kitchen with a frown. The two were taking a while in there.

He stands and marches towards the door before Susie can say anything to stop him, Bon-bon at his heels. Turning the corner he sees Julie in Joey in a deep conversation, pensive looks on both their faces.

"Just wait to tell-" Julie looks up and smiles at him, "Oh hey Frank!"

"Tell who what?" Frank asks, strolling into the kitchen and glancing at his cake. Happy fucking birthday was written in swooping cursive letters.

"Tell my Dad I scratched his car." Joey says quickly, "He's gonna be pissed."

"Ooh, sounds rough buddy." Frank says, scooping a bit of frosting off the cake and licking it off his finger, "You hit someone?"

"No, just...pulled out of the school wrong." Joey says, sounding oddly distant. Something was wrong, and he should probably figure out what.

"Eh, fuck 'em. Can we eat this shit now I'm starving."

Thankfully they don't sing him happy birthday, instead simply cutting the cake and going to the living room for their movie night. Frank manages to eat almost the entire cake by himself before getting six minutes into Jurassic Park. He listens to Julie and Susie banter about the logistics of Dino DNA as he stares blankly at the screen. A lot had happened today. He was still buzzing from the high of making his first kill, even if it was still credited towards Ghostface. The physical action of it had put his nerves to rest for once He would have to branch out, or maybe make it known that there were two killers to really get the publicity he wants. But for now the attention he got from Ghostface was enough. Absently he scratches behind the dogs ear and kisses his head lovingly.

"I've never seen him act like that. Why's he love you so much?" Julie asks through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Who doesn't?" Frank replies, hugging the dog closer. He never had pets, and most of his foster families didn't either. The idea was so novel to him.

Joey reaches over and gently pats Bon-bon's head, their hands brushing as he does so. He didn't think any of the others had pets before now, maybe he could take the dog in.

"Can I have this dog?"

"Absolutely not. My mom would get pissed. Thats a pure breed poodle and you'd probably rename him something stupid like...pocket knife."

"It's my birthday."

"And I'm not giving you the dead ladies dog." Julie replies firmly.

"Didn't the cops try to use him to find Ghostface?" Joey asks, scooting closer pet Bon-bon more.

"Yeah. All he did was lead them around the block like four times."

Joey's leg brushes his, and Frank shifts away as best he can without disturbing the dog.

"Maybe if we let him run around town he'd walk right up Ghostface in his plain clothes." Susie says over the roar of the T-rex on screen.

"If that was the case then I'd be fucking Ghostface." Frank says with a snort, almost laughing at his own terrible pun.

"Oooh careful what you say Franky, what if Ghostface has been like smelling your shirts and shit." Susie teases, tossing popcorn back.

Actually maybe that was why the dog was all over him. Bon-bon wasn't around during the party, but he wouldn't be surprised if the dog could smell the killer on him. Probably wanted to get treats from or something.

"Don't scare him on his birthday." Joey chides, tossing the popcorn back at Susie. Frank rolls his eyes and looks into the dogs big brown ones.

Maybe the dog could find Ghostface's real identity. The fact that he was a thin piece of cloth away from seeing the mans face a couple hours ago was driving him crazy. He understood the reasoning of course, but it was annoying talking to a statue.

"I'm getting more popcorn." Julie says, momentarily breaking Frank out of his thoughts as the girls both leave.

At first he thought the reason Ghostface was so cagey about his voice and face was because he was working for the cops to investigate him. Now that he had literally commited murder with Ghostface he kinda hoped that the man would just stop being so bitchy and cagey. Unless of course he was someone Frank would reco-

"Hey Frank." Joey begins, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Oh uh, w-were you busy today? I uh, well we were gonna meet at Tim's and you-"

"Oooh fuck yeah. Shit, I totally forgot about that!" Frank leans back and gives Joey an apologetic grin, "Had a guest over at my place, took up some time."

He watches Joey's jaw clench and he crosses his arms. Frank wonders if he's upset over him forgetting or having company over. He tilts his head, watching with interest as Joey avoids his eyes.

"Must've been pretty fun..." Joey mumbles, eyes darting over and down to Frank's neck.

Realization dawns on Frank, and he holds back a twisted smile. Oh this was absolutely fucking  _ novel _ . Julie's crush was embarrassing, but understandable. She wanted out of this shitty town and something new and fresh, he couldn't help being the man of her dreams. Although three years of him leading her on had eventually made her calm the fuck down and get off his dick. She was still his close friend, and thankfullu she got the hint he'd never, ever fuck her. He'd kill for her sure. He'd kill anyone to keep his Legion by his side. They were his of course.

"It was alright, kinda missed you though." Frank lies, watching Joey's entire demeanor change in an instant. Dower frown to a slight smile.

"Oh, uh that's...sweet."

Frank oh so casually scratches a non-existent itch on his neck, enjoying the way Joey's eyes are momentarily drawn to the tender hickeys peeking out before looking away.

"He's not the most talkative guy." He says casually, watching the hope light up in Joey's eyes when he drops the pronoun.

"He isn't?"

"Nah, easy on the eyes though." Frank says with a wink before turning back to the TV just Julie and Susie return with popcorn.

He did miss this particular type of torment. It was so easy to make them fall in love and stay with him no matter what. Joey was already a hot head who wanted Frank's approval, he couldn't wait to see what he could get him to do at his beck and call. Joey already killed a man for him, the possibilities were endless.

"Do you wanna watch a scary movie next?" Susie asks as the credits roll on Jurassic Park.

"Sure." Julie and Joey say at the same time.

"Stab?" Susie offers, crawling to the VHS rack.

"Too topical. Might scare Frank."

"Eat shit and live, Julie."

"Uhhh, My Bloody Valentine?"

"Sure!"

Susie starts rewinding Jurassic Park, waiting to start the new video.

"Those Nova Scotian accents are gonna drive me crazy." Frank complains as Susie puts the movie in.

Halfway through the movie Frank notices that Susie had fallen asleep on Julies lap, and Julie was nodding off too. This was the perfect time to mess with Joey.

"Hey..."

The man perks up with a snort, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"Wha..?"

"Wanna go swimming?"

Joey rubs his eyes and looks at the sleeping girls before nodding. Frank would've went alone but he was always nervous since he wasn't a strong swimmer. He pauses the VHS tape and slowly gets up, sneaking out of the living room, through the kitchen and to Julie's backyard pool. Joey slides the glass door closed behind them as Frank breaths in the cool night air. The water splashes docile as ever and he tugs his shirt over his head before unbuckling his jeans. For the first time he notices vague finger shaped bruises on his hips. The sight sends shivers of excitement through him as he notices how much he enjoys being marked like this. That was the reason the last few times be fucked were utterly unremarkable.

It wasn't rough enough.

"Damn, Frank what the hell did that guy do to you?" Joey asks as he walks up beside him, already stripped down to his boxers and eyeing the bruises.

"Not enough." Frank says as he tugs his pants down and kicks them aside, "Don't you fucking throw me in or I'll drown you."

As expected, Joey runs at him and attempts to full body slam him into the pool. Frank doges easily and scrambles away, jumping in on his own volition. Joey grins down at him before hopping in. Julie had a really nice pool, as long as he stayed on the shallow end. He lays back and listens to the sounds of the night along with the gentle splashing of Joey moving around.

"Where are Julies parents? Kinda fucked to be gone at a time like this?"

"I think she said they were in Calgary for the night, which is why she was allowed to have us over." Joey explains, floating up next to Frank. That made sense, it was probably safest to be around him anyway. Ghostface wouldn't hurt him in a way he didn't like it.

"My Bloody Valentine scare you, Franky?"

"Maybe if I lived in a mining town and not a shit hole abandon ski town."

Silence falls between them and he watches Joey bite his lip nervously. Glancing at the treeline before looking back to him.

"We can still just leave now. If you wanna."

Joey was like an open book.

"Just you and me?" Frank asks lightly, turning to look up at the stars, "Drive off into the Aurora Borealis to a happily ever after, eh?"

"Yeah..." Joey replies softly, his tone is so heartfelt Frank feels a little sad. Guy had it real bad and for the worst person he could have picked. Not his problem though.

"And leave Susie and Julie to get picked off by Ghostface."

Joey splashes him with water, "Not like right now asshole. Just sayin' that we can."

He probably would have jumped at the opportunity a few months ago. Taken the last of his paycheck and driven off with Joey without a second thought. But no, he was in deep with the Ghostface shit. He was staying in Ormond until the bitter fucking end.

"I gotta piss." Frank says suddenly, making his way to the ladder to climb out of the pool.

"Hey dude do not leave me alone out here."

"Aww are you afraid of Ghostface?"

"Yeah motherfucker' he's still out here! Black guy in a pool? I'm an easy target."

Frank snorts and climbs up the ladder, reaching down to help Joey out too. Guy had a point there. He shakes off as much water as he can before making his way to the bathroom while Joey waits on the porch. He wonders if he should lead Joey on slowly like with Julie or move fast with him. It might be fun to watch him get flustered with his actions. As impulsive and reckless as Joey was he never had much luck with dating. Guess Frank could see why now. He washes his hands and walks back to the porch to see an odd sight.

"Joey the fuck are you doing?"

Joey looks over, panic in his eyes and points out the glass door. The chefs knife in his hand shines menacingly in the moonlight.

"I saw someone out there." Joey hisses. Frank looks out into the trees and sees nothing.

"You sure it wasn't like a dog?"

"Frank I'm not fucking playing."

Well shit. It was probably nothing, but he might as well check it out. He opens the glass door and steps out. Grabbing his pants and pulling his knife from the, he debates putting them on to check said movement out and decides it's not worth walking around in the nettles for. He grabs his shirt and Joey's bundle of clothing before jogging back inside and closing the sliding door and clicking the lock.

"Here, I'll stay up and keep watch."

"Frank we should-"

"No. I'm not calling the cops just-"

The phone on the wall rings, causing Joey to jump in fear and Frank to flinch. He picks the receiver up quickly, not wanting Julie ir Susie to wake up.

"Hello?"

"Frank?" An angry voice all but yells. He immediately drops his tone a few octaves.

"No, Ms. Becker its Joey!"

He watches the real Joey relax, letting out a sigh. Frank passes him his clothing and he starts to redress.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Joey, you know how you two sound alike."

"Sure do."

"Is Julie asleep?"

"Yeah, you want me to wake her up?"

"Oh no! Just making sure you three are okay! If anything is suspicion call the police."

"Of course Ms. Becker!"

"Goodnight, sweetheart." The woman says and hangs up.

Frank puts the phone on the receiver and shrugs. Joey lets out a breath and puts the chefs knife back into the knife black.

"I'm...freaking the fuck out. Sorry." Joey says, "This stuff has been getting to me."

"I noticed." Frank rests a comforting hand on Joey's shoulder. He can feel the man tense then relax under his touch, "I'll keep you safe."

Joey stares at him, a strange look crossing over his face. It was hard to place. Almost like the same way Bon-bon looked at him or how people looked at their favorite dessert, but there's a subtle difference he can't quite discern. He tilts his head, and stands on his tiptoes to get a better look at the expression. Joey leans forward quickly, and presses his lips against Frank's.

He pulls back so fast his hip bangs into the kitchen counter shooting a spike of pain up his hip. That was weird, he really didn't like that. He stares at Joey, resting a hand on his hip and keeping his face as neutral as possible. He isn't too surprised Joey did that, hell it was a shock Joey hadn't made a move like that before.

"Sorry I-"

"Hey, hey!" Frank interrupts quickly, shifting into damage control mode, "Just...surprised me a bit."

"Yeah, yeah." Joey says, quickly backing a few feet away, "You know me..."

"I do." Frank replies with sincerity, "Usually that's my job. Surprising you."

Joey laughs at that and looks away, clearing his throat, "I'm uh, going to sit in the living room with Jules and Susie."

"I'll stay here."

Joey shuffles off out of sight, and Frank looks pensively at the phone. Then out the sliding glass door. The irony of this situation is not lost on him. A few months before the killing at Mount Ormond he had yelled at Julie so viciously for kissing some guy at a party she threw up from how hard she was sobbing. What the fuck would Ghostface do to him if he saw that shit. He sits at the kitchen table, watching the phone and waiting for it to ring.

"Shh I think he's waking up!" A hushed voice whispers. Frank cracks an eye open and glares at Julie standing in front of him.

"Uhh, salut?" She says, hiding a marker behind her back and a pink flash runs upstairs.

"You're fucked." Frank growls, standing up from the table where he had fallen asleep. Someone had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

"I didn't get a chance to do anything!' Julie yells, running around the table and sliding on her socks to a stop.

He glares at her suspiciously and turns to look at his reflection in her stainless steel toaster, relieved to see his face unmarred by ink.

"What time is it?"

"Six. Joey's in the shower and Susie cowarded out." Julie says, tossing Frank his shirt and opening the fridge, "How was your night swim?"

"Joey thought he saw a ghost so it was more of a dip."

Julie drinks some milk from the bag and raises her eyebrows, "A skinny one?"

"I've seen Friday the Thirteenth more than enough times to not swim naked day or night." Frank replies, holding a hand out for the milk and chugging half the bag before passing it back, "Jason isn't getting this ass."

"Pussy."

"Whore."

Their insult fight is ended by Susie sliding down the railing from upstairs, earning her a strong worded scolding from Julie about how that's not allowed. Frank pulls his pants on, feeling something odd in his back pocket. He pulls a folded piece of paper out with his name on it. Usually he destroyed the notes Ghostface gave him, keeping incriminating evidence on his person wasn't his cup of tea. He opens it anyway, out of curiosity.

'Jed Olsen:

Will report to the police station at ten to fax files to Calgary Sun Office tomorrow. Takes shortcut down alley between Hair Salon and Boutique on his way to his car. Don't miss him, don't get spotted.

XOXO - Ghostface'

He quickly folds the note and shoves it into his pocket before the others notice. Ghostface sure worked fucking fast, unless of course he already had his eyes on Jed. The reporter did say he had followed the Ghostface case since Rosewell. Frank follows behind the rest as they make their way to school, a particular spring in his step as his thoughts drift away. He doesn't even pull away when Joey lets their hands brush, too preoccupied at the thought of how he was going to stab Jed to until his guts fell out.

"Hey Frank?"

He looks up at Joey and raises his eyebrows, "Pardon?"

"After class do you wanna get Tim's with me?"

"Sure. I'll make it this time."

Joey smiles and quickly looks away to clear his throat. Frank stops at the edge of school grounds and waves the rest of them off. He turns and starts making his way to work, running through the endless sick and twisted things he wanted to do to that fucking reporter. His third kill was going go be a fucking good one, Jed should be touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry this isnt gonna me joey/frank bcs frank has Awful taste in men. Ironically just like joey


	10. Fuming Mixtape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment youve all been waiting for. Yes that one
> 
> Also if u wanna know see my legion + gf headcanons check [here](https://shorknados.tumblr.com/post/186840670556/my-legion-headcanons-feat-a-single-ghostface) for some art by my lovely gf who puts up with my awful taste in pairings. Coloring by me

He eagerly flips over to the newest story on the Ghostface case, skimming through the article until finally getting to the good shit.

'The proplexing part of this murder is how it could have happened. Marks of the victim's neck and a makeshift garrote found at the scene reveal that before Mr. Bouvain died he was strangled. However the angle of the stab wounds imply that they were inflicted from the passenger seat, while the angle of the neck wounds suggest a killer from the backseat. Was this murder done by two? Police have refused to comment on the question, and continue to assure the restless town of Ormond that the killer will be caught.'

Oh that was good. He snips the article out, taking great care to include the name since it was going to be one of his last. Dropping the article in the box with the other snippets relating to the Ski Resort murders. He wanted to keep his own kills separate from Ghostface's, they held more meaning to him. It had been almost three days since stabbing that person in the car and he was still on cloud nine. The muffled screams and warm wet blood flowed through his mind in the few hours of sleep he had racked up. Normally he was so jittery and numb, but now he felt a calm deep in his chest. He stares at the round scars on the backs of his hand. No fresh ones. Hadn't needed to do it in a while. The sight of his bare hands was odd enough for him to wrap a fresh pair of bandages on anyway.

Ghostface had been kind enough to drop a copy of the Calgary Sun off at his doorstep today. There wasn't a note inside and he hasn't received a call or anything, which wasn't bugging him per se it just felt odd. Like he was getting blown off by the killer for no reason. Was he mad Frank didn't wanna cuddle, because judging by the amount of cum that ended up inside him he wasn't that bad at fucking. The man was probably just giving him some space to enjoy his kill, and prepare for his next one.

Speaking of that, Frank figures it's time to head out and find the fucker. The note said he would be at the police station by ten, it was nine now and he had plenty of time to get there. He pulls on a pair of camouflage pants and his jackets. Adding the red scarf to his usual outfit before. tucking his walkman into the inner pockets and starting his tape. Loitering around the station was definitely not a good idea, he was better off waiting across the street or nearby. That part of town had a few alleyways between buildings that weren't particularly heavily monitored. He slides his mask under his arm to conceal the grinning face as he got into more populated areas of downtown. It was unsurprisingly quiet despite the early hour. Usually the downtown had a few people milling about getting ready to do God knows what all day, but as of recent not a soul was out.

He pauses at the alley between the hair salon and boutique, where Jed would be cutting through on his way back to wherever he crawled out of. The passage itself was unremarkable, leading out into the small parking lot from the bygone days of this town's boom. It's only notable feature was how dark it was at this time of day, completely free of sunlight and warmth. A good place to die. Distantly he hears a car door slam and takes that was his queue to leave. Walking half a block down before ducking into another alley, leaning against the bricks a few paces down as he listens to distant footsteps approach. For just a moment he sees him pass by, and feels his anticipation grow. After a few moments he walks out of the alley and across the street. Lighting up a cigarette.

He kneels against the wall of the new alley he had ducked into. A perfect view of the entrance and hard to see into from the station, He blows smoke out slowly and waits patiently for his target to exit the building. Jed had hopped up the steps with his bag and camera a few minutes ago, he shouldn't take too long in there. The alley was near the end of the block, meaning Frank had ample time to cross the street and catch up without being noticed.

Three minutes tick by until the station door opens, and Frank stubs his cigarette out on the wall as a familiar figure walks down the steps. He grips his mask and exits the alley, watching Jed fumble trying to put folders in his bag as he turns his back to the devil on his heels. Walking down the empty sidewalk. Frank crosses the street, falling in step ten or so feet behind him. He's careful to keep his footsteps light and easy to not alert the man of his presence. When Jed turns sharply into the alley, a smile graces his lips. Frank pulls the mask over his head, and tugs his hood up. Breaths coming faster as he rounds the corner.

Jed was digging through his bag again, slowing to a stop. In the time it took Frank to catch up enter the alley Jed had tugged the hood of his own jacket up. Frank draws his knife, walking a few steps closer before reaching out dragging the blade along the bricks of the alley. The light noise seems to echo in the empty cold space, but Jed doesn't move. He spins the knife in his fingers and raises it, he wants Jed to look at him when he sinks the point into his body. He wants to see the life drain out of those pretty brown eyes. He wanted to bask in his fear. This kill was personal.

"Jed." He calls mockingly, only a few desperate moments away, "I'm going to gut you like a fish."

He hears a deep intake of breath from Jed, but the man doesn't move at the verbal threat either. Frank reaches forward, about to grab his shoulder and force the man to witness his death when Jed turns around.

Bright red plastic flashes in the shadow as Frank's wrist and shoulder are grabbed and he's forced into the bricks of the wall. His knife clatters to the stone below and his head slammed into the bricks. He sees stars and blackness for a moment. A groan escapes his lips as feels his mask get ripped off his face and thrown aside. His vision clears, and he stares at the familiar downturned expression of anguish, now red like blood.

"What the fuck." Frank whispers as the mask tilts slowly. He looks down and sees the same jacket, bag and Queen shirt Jed had worn into the station. This wasn't happening.

"Mess with the horns, and you get the devil." Jed coos, voice dropping to a familiar deep octave clear of distortions from a phone.

Everything clicks into place at once, a flood of coincidences and synchronicities fill his mind. Everything that seemed inconsequential all the glimmerings of doubt he never bothered to think on.

Of course.

Of fucking course. He was so fucking  _ stupid _

Ghostface laughs under the mask, a familiar and horrifying sound now.

"Don't look so upset Franky, I can keep the mask on next time we fuck." Ghostface coos before grabbing Frank's throat and squeezing, "You look so cute in my scarf." He lashes out with his free hand, desperatly grasping at the mask and ripping it off in the small chance that he was wrong and it was all a sick fucking joke.

Jed's cold brown eyes stare back at him, shining with an indescribable light as Frank's vision darkens at the edges. He feels no fear facing the man, no weakness. Rage fills his heart, and he growls at Jed like a wild animal before the world goes black.

\---

"-We can do the tango just for two. I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings..."

Consciousness laps at his mind as slowly as the tune starts to make meaning. He holds back a groan, trying to get his bearings before moving too much. The general concenses was that he felt like fucking garbage. Every ligament in his body was stiff and throbbing. The headache behind his eyes was an entirely different beast. His throat burned and a slow swallow shots spikes of pain through the rest of his mouth. 

He was sitting in a chair. One of the plush rolly ones he could tell that much. His arms where bound to the arm rests and his feet were tied together. A careful shift revealed that the binds were somewhat loose, but felt firm enough for him to be unable to wiggle free. Talk about a sick fuck. Frank straightens his neck, wincing at the powerful pop as he moves and cracks his eyes open.

Immediately his eye's meet Jed's. The man was sitting on a turned office chair, arms resting on the back and staring intently at Frank. They cold brown eyes don't waver, it's like looking into the eyes of a bear. A predator with no scruples of mercy. To say he felt fear was wrong, a sense of understanding flowed through him. This wasn't a killer watching its prey, this was a killer watching its rival. Frank stares back into the endless depths, and wonders why Jed looked different. Something was missing and he couldn't figure out what.

"Everything's all right. Just hold on tight. That's because I'm a good old-fashioned fashioned lover boy!"

The music fades out, and Jed moves one arm away from the chair and behind him. Frank doesn't dare break eye contact first as the sound of a tape playing in reverse for a few seconds before a click sounds. Jed's arm returns to where it was previously resting as the piano starts again.

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things..." Freddie Mercury's voice sings from the tape player behind the man.

If he was going for creepy he sure fucking nailed it. Frank felt as if his flesh was going to crawl off his bones at the constant unblinking gaze and love song being played. There really wasn't any point to winning this war of attrition, so Frank turns his gaze to the room around him. It was a hotel room, looked pretty nice too. A desk was behind Jed and the bed was to his right, just past that the open door to the bathroom and the door to the hall. On his left were the curtains. The blinking light of the alarm clock flashed one twenty-seven. Of that were to be believed then Frank had been unconscious for three hours. He could vaguely remember being moved around after passing out from lack of oxygen, probably to Jed's car before being given another thing to knock him out. He looks back at the man and his unbroken gaze, still as a statue. Frank knows that he could very well sit there all day, so he was better off cutting to the chase. Questions bubbled inside of him as he tried to figure out the right angle to work this situation.

"Thought you said your name started with a D." Frank raspsy out, the act of speaking shooting immeasurable pain through his throat.

Jed laughs, and gets up. Content to be the winner of his self imposed staring contest.

"It does. Think I'd walk around using my real name?" Jed shoots back as he walks into the bathroom.

Frank hears running water before he emerges again. Spinning the second chair and sitting down normally.

"Water?" Jed asks innocently, holding the cup up as if Frank could reach out and take it.

The best course of action would be playing along, no matter how awful it was. He nods meekly. Jed's rolls forward and holds the cup up to Frank's lips, allowing him to take a few slow swallows of lukewarm water that only sooth the pain in his throat slightly.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, there's only so many-"

Frank spits a mouthful of water at Jed, cutting him off and causing him to pull away. The last thing Frank wanted was his shitty fake apology for strangling him in an alleyway. He watches Jed's face shift from a fake smile to a neutral and cold look as he stands and upends the water over Frank's head.

"Burn in hell." Frank snaps, losing his cool almost immediately. Something about Jed made him so pissed it was unreal. To think this fucker had been Ghostface the whole time.

"People will notice I'm gone, fucker..

Jed rolls his eyes and sets the cup down on the desk, pausing the tape player as he retreats back to the bathroom only to return with a towel.

"Y'know I tried to call you in to work and your Boss was shocked you even bothered to tell him. No one will notice shit, Frank."

He jerks away away as Jed forcefully dries his hair with the cloth, growling at him as if it would help.

"Listen, buddy. I'm not going to kill you, or hurt you. If I wanted to do that you'd already be dead. So maybe calm the hell down and listen." Jed says as he tosses the towel aside and kneels down to be eye level with Frank.

"I like you, kid. I like you  _ a lot _ . As much as I wanna rip you too pieces for being a little shit head I won't."

Frank glares at him but nods, eager to see where this is going. Jed reaches up and gently cups Frank's cheek. He tries to jerk away but it's not easy when he's tied up.

"You're so intriguing, Frank. You know that, right? Everyone likes Jed, or Michael, or the fuck whatever my fake name is. Never had a problem with anyone but you. Never meet someone so enraptured with Ghostface either. You're a blank slate changing to fit whoever looks at you." Jed muses, thumb running over the scar on Frank's lip.

This guy had fucking problems that required professional help. The longer he talked the more animated he became. It was interesting to see another personality cracking through. Jed was painfully fake, to the point of making Frank despise him for merely existing. But whatever was leaking out of the seams had gotten his attention.

"What's your real name?" Frank asked, keeping his voice a soft whisper to save his throat pain.

The man pulls away, hand dragging over his cheek slowly as he turns to pick up a legal pad from the desk.

"Let's play a game." Jed says, writing on the pad with a pen, "Are you familiar with hangman?"

Frank nods, not wanting to speak more than he had to.

"Good, good. I already told you some letters, but for prosperity let's start at the beginning." Jed says, turning to show Frank a crudely drawn gallows with five underlines. He thinks back to the phone conversation, and figures he should start with what he knew.

"D."

"Good."

Jed fills the first line in with the letter.

"Y."

"Look at you, on a roll."

Frank stares at the three letters in between. This had to be easy, but he was having trouble coming up with a name that made sense.

"E?"

Jed draws a head on the noose, and then adds a body.

"Hey wait you can't-"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want." Jed snaps, smiling at Frank, "You don't wanna lose."

Frank nods, he was at the mans mercy whether he liked it or not. These were his rules and he had to play by them.

"A."

"Good choice. Should be smooth sailing from here." Jed says, writing an a in the second spot.

Well, it certainly looked like daddy. There was no way it was that, right? He glances at Jed, who raises his eyebrows. Frank finally notices what was wrong with him.

"Where are your glasses?"

Jed looks surprised for a moment then laughs, setting the legal pad down to grab the pair from the desk. He unfolds them and sets them on Frank's face despite how quickly he jerks back. He squints, only to find that he could see just fine.

"They're fake. Help me blend in." Jed explains, sitting back on the desk and drawing to legs on the hangman, "Now stop wasting my time, Franky. Guess."

Ok shit he was down to the wire, and saying daddy wasn't going to help him. He runs through a few names in his mind, trying to come up with something.

"You already know it Franky. It's yours too." Jed says, slowly adding an arm to the man. Panic flutters in his fingers, and he knows that Jed will not hesitate to kill him after this.

"Danny?"

Jed smiles a manic grin and sets the notebook down. He walks over to Frank and rests his hands on his thighs, leaning into his personal space. The man breath fogs up the glasses as Frank tries to pull away.

"Bingo."

So this was his real personality, eh? Danny...the name fits. One they really do share.

"Do you want me to call you Danny? It's much better than Jed." Frank says carefully, "Or would you rather I call you Ghosty?"

"Danny's fine." He says quickly, hands dragging up Frank's thighs slowly to the hem of his shirt. Looks like the guy had taken his jacket off when he brought him here.

"What do you want from me, Danny?" Frank asks, watching the way his eyes fill in excitment at the use of his real name, "Are you just gonna fuck and kill me?"

Danny shakes his head, fingers tugging on the hem of Frank's shirt playfully, "What kind of fucking animal do you take me for? I'm not gonna kill you."

Good to know. Frank shifts, tugging on his leg bindings and shaking the glasses off his face. They clatter to the floor and out of sight as Frank looks down at Danny. He left out one thing though.

"So you're gonna fuck me?" Frank asks, tilting his head curiously.

"Well if you insist." Danny teases, dropping to his knees and grabbing Frank's belt.

As much as he enjoyed last time, he really wasn't in the mood to add soreness of the ass to his aches and pains. Frank kicks out with his bound legs as best he can, managing to roll and inch back only to be pulled forward by Danny.

"Don't touch me." Frank growls, only receiving an annoyed eye roll in response. Danny does release him however. Good to know the killer had standards.

"Alright, alright. I won't do any of that now." Danny says, raising his hands and attempting to placate him, "Just do me a favor and listen."

Frank glares at him, not exactly able to do anything else. Danny leans against the desk and crosses his arms, fixing Frank with a thoughtful look.

"I like you, I really do. Had my eye on you for a while actually, before you stumbled into Ms. Finch's house."

The words send a shudder through Frank. All those times he thought he was being watched were all probably rooted in truth. It creeped him out.

"But after that I couldn't just kill you. Not after seeing that little shrine to me. Oh don't look embarrassed." Danny chides as Frank struggles to keep a neutral expression.

"Cut to the chase, Danny." Frank grits out. The man rolls his eyes again, but compiles.

"I was planning on taking you out a few more times before revealing myself. Then depending on how you reacted I'd kill you or take you with me. Personally I didn't expect our relationship to escalate so quickly, but in my defense you forced my hand." Danny says with a shrug.

"What do you mean I forced your hand?"

"By asking to kill Jed."

Frank must've made a very confused face, causing Danny to sigh deeply.

"I couldn't just refuse, Franky. Would've been suspicious for Ghostface to not want to kill someone. Besides you drive a hard bargain." Danny teases, eyes running over Frank's body in a way that makes his skin crawl.

Hard to believe he fucked himself over so spontaneously without even realizing. Danny's logic made sense in a weird twisted way. The guy was a narcissist who was getting his rocks off knowing Frank hated him in the day time. The fact that he had willing fucked Ghostface for nothing made him see red. Danny watches him like a hawk, no doubt taking in every emotion on his face. Really sucked to be on the receiving side of such scrutiny.

"Why even keep me around in the first place." Frank huffs, "Aren't I a liability to perfect Ghostface." he sneers.

Danny smiles at the backhanded compliment, "You are a liability, but I'm too good to get caught like that."

Frank stares at him, waiting for an answer to his first question.

"I've been at this for a while. Do you know how old I am?"

He looks at the man up and down. He was taller than Frank but most people were, but he had a slim athletic build along with a pretty looking neutral face. Crooked nose too.

"Thirty?"

Danny pulls out his wallet, rifling through the cards until he pulls one out and holds it up for Frank to read. It was a drivers licence for Jed Olsen issues in Florida. He skims the lines, jumping down to his birthrate.

"You're twenty-five?" Frank asks, looking at Danny curiously.

"Twenty-six. Went a little young for that one but I pass. Started my killing spree at the ripe age of nineteen." Danny says, tucking the card into the wallet and returning it to his pocket.

"When you've been at this for a while. You learn what you need to do and take care of the details. The first time you're careful, by the thirteenth time you forget to close the door all the way." He says with a slight chuckle. The words are as chilling as they are thrilling to hear.

Danny steps forward again, bringing a hand up to run through Frank's damp hair gingerly. Gripping the short locks and forcing Frank to look up at him. His brown eyes seemed warmer than the cold depth that Jed had. There was a light in them that Frank had briefly seen in his own dead eyes before. Danny leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead almost lovingly. It makes Frank's stomach churn.

"You remind me of myself Franky." Danny whispers, hand trailing down his cheek and caressing his tender neck, "I've never seen such passion in an empty shell."

The words make Frank angry at how true they are. Insults and tender touches were sending his throbbing brain into overdrive, he was so sore and in pain all he wanted was a cold shower, a xanax and a fucking nap. All this talking was hurting his throat more than his failed attempt at a blowjob. He slumps forward, right into Danny's arms. They wrap around his shoulders in the most comforting hug he had ever experienced.

"Shh, why don't you go to sleep, hmm?"

"I can't sleep like this." Frank mumbles, closing his eyes and breathing in Danny's nasty cologne.

"I can't untie you, might get the cops."

"I won't." Frank says as sincerely as he can muster.

Danny leans in closer until his head is resting on Frank's shoulder. No doubt an uncomfortable position.

"If I untie you and find you gone. There will be hell to pay." Danny coos as if he's whispering sweet nothings into his ear, "Jérémy Prescott never locks his window, just in case you come around."

Frank's blood runs cold, and his eyes snap open. He stays still despite his knee jerk reaction to pull away and headbutt Danny for even mentioning Joey. Slowly Danny pulls back enough to smile at him, fingers grabbing his chin and holding him steady.

"Is Joey a good kisser?" Danny asks innocently.

Frank clenches his jaw. He almost thought that Ghostface hadn't seen that, looks like he was wrong.

"I'll take that as a no." Danny says before moving forward and pressing his lips to Frank's.

The hand at his chin keeps him from pulling away, not that he really wanted to. He moves forward a bit, kissing back with hesitance. He wanted the ropes off, nothing more.

Danny tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Hands trailing down the binds on Frank's arms and slowly undoing the knots. He presses forward more, flicking his tongue over Danny's lips and earning a gentle sigh of approval. The hands trail over his thighs ones his arms are free, moving down his legs to untie him from that to. Carefully Frank flexes his arms, relishing in the pops as his still muscles stretch. Danny nips his lips before pulling away, grinning down at him as if he won something. In a way he had.

"Bed's over there. Don't try anything funny."

Frank nods, deciding not to push his luck as he gets shakily to his feet. His muscles scream in protest as he stretches, trying to work the stiffness away as best he can.

"Want a back rub?" Danny offers.

"Fuck you."

"Don't tempt me."

Frank takes a few unbalanced steps to the bed, dropping down with a groan. He notices now that Danny had taken his jacket and mask away. He pats his pockets to find them empty as well, no wallet or house keys.

That really fucking sucked, guess he would have to wait a bit. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He wonders what hotel he was at. Ormond didn't have a large quantity to choose from. He could only imagine they were a town over at the most. If he escaped it would be a hell of a walk. Then again he could call Joey to pick him up, risk putting the guy in danger but he would do anything Frank asked.

The desk light flips on, and the tape player starts again. Good Old Fashioned Lover-Boy layers over the sound of a pen scratching. Danny had the mercy to turn it down to a gentle background hum, and Frank found sleep taking him easier than he expected. He wasn't safe, but he at least had some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten chapters in an i just figured out an ending to this fic go me!


	11. Chewed Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ur wondering why im posting at 3 in the morning its bcs im sick 😔
> 
> Danny sleeps once every 48 hours and is probably on crack, way to go bud!

"Franky, wake up!" Danny calls, roughly shaking his shoulder. Frank groans and opens his heavy eyes, momentarily forgetting where he was.

"Die." Frank groans as memories rush back to him. He felt the gross way one feels when waking up after a long nap. His throat was feeling better however, and his body was no longer burning in pain.

"Got you breakfast!" Danny says, dropping a wrapped honey bun and a bagel in his lap before setting a coffee cup on the nightstand, "You slept almost fifteen hours buddy."

Frank grabs the bagel and takes a bit, looking blerily around the room for the clock that was flashing five in the morning. He looks back to Danny standing in the dim lamp light. He was wearing his Ghostface jacket without the mask. The sight made him feel incredibly annoyed. He was still coming to terms with the fact that Ghostface was Jed, who went by Danny. It was so fucking obvious in hindsight he wanted to slap himself. Then again who would've believed him if he had started pointing fingers. Jed really did have everyone under his thumb.

"Good news Frank! Julie noticed you were missing!" Danny says, pulling out a leatherbound journal and flipping through it, "I heard her mention it to Susie on the way back from school. It's so sweet to see how much they care."

Frank glares at him, taking another bite from the bagal to keep from screaming at the man. He knew was a tactic to get on his nerves and he doesn't bite. Instead of taking a sip of coffee, surprised to find it sweetened perfectly.

"Of course they'd notice. Their world practically revolves around me." Frank says carefully, finishing his bagal and tearing into the honey bun. He was surprisingly hungry.

"I know, it's so intriguing. How long have you known them?" Danny asks, sitting on the bed and facing him eagerly.

"Four years."

"And they'd do anything for you?" Danny continues, tilting his head curiously.

"They tend to."

"Would they kill if you asked?" Danny's tone drops to a serious and cold note. Frank takes a casual sip of coffee, meeting his eyes.

"Dunno."

Danny smiles, leaning forward and inserting himself in Frank's personal space.

"Don't lie to me."

Frank flips Danny off, setting his coffee aside and sliding off his bed. A hand shoots out and takes his wrist.

"I'm not done talking, yet."

"Well I am." Frank snaps, yanking his hand away out of Danny's grasp.

Immediately Danny grabs his upper arm and stands, yanking him forward until they're chest to chest.

"You listen to me, Bitch." Danny hisses, unrelenting rage in his voice, "I know damn well you and those other shit heads killed that man together. Don't take all the credit."

Frank freezes, staring up at Danny as calmly as he can muster. He knew these tactics well, considering how often he used them on the gang. This was a situation best approached carefully.

"You're using the Ghostface voice..." He says, pretending to be a little flustered. He did like that voice a lot, even if it was just Danny pitching his tone down.

"Don't deflect, Franky. Just admit it." Danny replies, truly bringing the sexy phone voice out this time with a smirk.

"Fine. We did it together, but those three aren't fucking killers. Look at them they're...they're.." Frank flounders momentarily, "They're good people."

Danny lets go of his arm, but doesn't move. Frank takes that time to step around him and towards the washroom. He takes the time to wash his face after using the toilet. Noticing the fading and fresh bruises in his neck. He runs a wet hand over them before tugging his shirt down a bit to look at the fading hickey on his collarbone.

There were a lot of mixed emotions running through him now. He had really liked Ghostface, really enjoyed sleeping with him too. Jed made him want to rip his own eyes out and Danny...well he was interesting. This left him with a bunch of conflicting feelings on the guy. Danny wasn't really that bad. Kind of an asshole, manipulative, thinks he's better than everyone. Almost a mirror image of Frank himself. And since he was literally being held captive in the guys hotel room he had to get a feel for his personality fast. He needed to get on Danny's good side, earn his trust. Not that he was actually going to turn him in to the cops or anything, that would mean trouble for him.

No, Frank needed to be trusted so he could keep an eye on the gang. Danny obviously wasn't above stalking and threatening them too. Fucker was obviously jealous of Joey and dead set on making it known just how easy he could kill any of them. Despite his talk he doubted Danny would actually kill him, as proof by how many opportunities he was given. Danny liked him too much, even when Frank pushed his luck with him. That was the angle he would play. He had a feeling Danny liked a little rebellion.

With one last look in the mirror Frank steps out of the washroom, finding Danny rifling through his duffle bag shirtless. A few scars are noticeable on his back, and Frank decides to take advantage of the situation.

"Where'd you get those?" He asks, walking over to Danny and kneeling next to him.

"Some people fight back."

He shudders at the thought, reaching out to gently brush one of the scars. Danny stops moving, turning to look at him from over his shoulder. Frank ignores the look, running his fingers over the white flesh. They looked surprisingly brutal, probably a knife wound or something similar. Danny pulls a shirt from the bag and tugs it over his head, forcing Frank to move his hand away.

"How do you hide stuff like that?" Frank asks curiously as Danny remains kneeling near him, "Do you just go to the hospital?"

"Usually I patch myself up. If its real bad I go to the ER and say a drunk guy attacked me. People don't really ask questions if you don't give them a reason to."

He makes a note of that for future reference. Though he suspects he would be better at not getting injured in the first place. Danny turns to face him, reaching out to brush his fingers along Frank's neck.

"You bruise easily." Danny notes, fingers trailing down Frank's chest before tugging his shirt up slightly to reveal the fading bruises on his hips from a few nights ago. Frank doesn't fight back, deciding to play docile. 

"I know."

Danny's eyes linger on the patch of skin between his jeans and shirt, wondering over the discolored flesh. He could see desire in his eyes, and it sparked excitement in Frank.

"How are you feeling?" Danny asks, letting go of his shirt and pulling his hand back.

"Better." Frank replies, deciding to go ahead with his half baked seduction plan. It almost worked last time, if the target hadn't been the one he was seducing. He crawls forward, inserting himself in between Danny's legs and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Much better, actually." He drops his voice a few octaves. Danny raises his eyebrows, a look of disbelief on his face.

"What do you want?"

A tinge of annoyance sours Frank's expression. Okay, maybe he was moving a bit fast for casual seduction. But in his defence he never did this shit before.

"I don't know-"

"Think I'll just fuck you and let you go?" Danny asks, arm wrapping around his waist and tugging him closer. The man forces Frank into his lap and gently nuzzles his neck, "C'mon Franky I'm not that much of a creep."

"Could've fooled me." Frank replies, rolling his eyes and tilting his head up. Danny's hand trails down his back, sliding under Frank's shirt and running his nails over his skin.

"I won't go to the cops, Danny. I'm not stupid." Frank says, switching his tactics slightly. He runs his hands over the man's shoulders and back.

"You won't?" Danny coos mockingly, pressing light kisses to Frank's neck. The feeling makes him shudder.

"No. I'd get in trouble too. Accessory to murder and all." Frank replies evenly, "I still want to work with Ghostface. I still wanna kill together."

Danny laughs mockingly, hand brushing over his hips to trail up his chest with ice cold fingers. Frank's shirt is pushed up to his nipples as Danny runs his other hand over Frank's ribs.

"Nice tattoo." Danny compliments, running his fingers over the winding snake that curled trailed down his sternum.

"Thanks."

"Got anymore?"

Frank lets out a soft gasp when Danny pinches his nipple, annoyed at how nice it felt.

"I have asshole on my right wrist."

Danny takes his hand and flips it over, squinting at his hand, "Not seein' it."

"It's white ink. Glows under blacklight."

"Cute." Danny comments, gently kissing Frank's wrist. The action makes his pulse race and a heat rise to his cheeks.

"You got any?" Frank asks as Danny moves him forward and presses him against the bed edge of the bed.

"Nah, don't want anything on me that would get me recognized." Danny replies, spreading Frank's legs. He glares at him, only slightly turned on by the sight of Danny between his thighs.

The cold hands grip his thighs and squeeze, sliding up to rest at the belt of his jeans. Frank tenses in anticipation, a little embarrassed he was already starting to sport a hard on at such light touches. Danny unbuckles his belt then gently rubs his hands over the bulge in Frank's jeans, earning a soft gasp.

"Remember the safe word?"

"Red."

"Good boy." Danny praises, unbuttoning Frank's jeans and tugging them down past his knees. Frank lets out a slow breath and leans his head back, enjoying the feeling of Danny's cold hands run over his tender thighs.

"This is a weird one." Danny says, running a finger over the barbed wire tattoo running around his thigh, "Kinda slutty."

"Fuck off. It was free." Frank huffs. He really wasn't a fan of that one, but thankfully he didn't see it often.

"Ooh, pay on your knees?"

Frank glares at him, tempted to punch him in the face for suggesting such a thing. Then again Frank didn't exactly leave the most virginal impression on Danny. Then again he knew just how to get back at the man.

"Maybe..." Frank replies lightly, "Wasn't too bad..."

Danny digs his fingers into Frank's thighs, nails dragging across the tender flesh and making him moan. Frank's boxers are pushed up slightly and he can feel Danny press light kisses to his thighs. The mans stubble scratches slightly and he holds in a soft groan. Danny's other hand presses against Frank's dick, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

"I'm better." Danny growls, nipping Frank's thigh before sucking on the tender flesh. Talk about possessive and haughty.

He doesn't respond, instead running his fingers through Danny's hair and rolling his hips in an attempt to get more friction from the gentle touches. Danny proceeds to bite and suck a plethora of hickeys onto Frank's thighs without giving him any relief. He lets out a small whine, gripping Danny's hair and tugging slightly.

"Patience is a virtue, Frank." Danny whispers, dropping his tone to that familiar raspy voice from the phone. It makes Frank weak at the knees.

"You're one to talk. Thou shalt not kill?" Frank replies breathlessly as Danny tugs his boxers down to stroke his cock.

"Guess I'll see you in hell when we get there." Danny coos, lapping at the head of Frank's cock and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He twists his fingers in the man's hair and relaxes under the others touch. A hand roves upward to caress his chest and stomach while the other gently strokes his dick as Danny takes his sweet time licking the tip. Frank whines, wishing Danny would just hurry the fuck up and get to deep throating him again but he knew better than to expect that. Danny bobs his head, wrapping his lips around Frank and slowly going down on him. He lets out another moan, bringing a hand up to cover his face. Danny wanted to hear him sure, didn't say anything about seeing him. A few more skillful swirls of his tongue have Frank a painting mess. Danny was annoyingly good at this stuff.

"Do this often?" Frank teases, voice coming out more like a moan than anything with actual bite. Danny slowly pulls off his dick with a smack, sitting up and starting to unbuckle his pants.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Danny replies, sounding much more cool and collected than Frank had, "Throat still hurt?"

It did, but he was actually eager to try this whole cock sucking thing again. He took notes last time.

"Nope."

"Good." Danny stands, leaving Frank eye level with the slight bulge in his pants.

He takes his cue and sits up, unzipping Danny's pants and wasting no time pulling the mans cock out and stroking it a few times. He enjoys the unhindered sounds of Danny's soft moans before licking the mans cock. Can't say he really enjoyed the taste much, but then again he wasn't a stickler for that shit. Carefully he sicks the mans dick, moving much slower than he had the last time in an attempt to get the whole thing in his mouth.

"Relax your jaw." Danny says between pants, hand combingthrough Frank's hair almost lovingly, "If you squeeze your thumb in you, ah fuck, f-fist it helps the uh, gag reflex."

Frank nods, unwittingly pulling another moan from Danny as he takes his advice. He relaxes his jaw and throat as much as he can, finding himself able to take a lot of dick in his mouth before it started becoming uncomfortable. He swallows around Danny's cock, eliciting a loud moan from above, and slowly begins moving back and forth on the mans dick. Stroking the part he knows damn well he can reach as he sucks.

"Fuck Frank, you're a goddamn natural." Danny chokes out through desperate moans. The praise makes Frank's heart flutter, and he starts to move faster. Letting out a low hum which only causes the grip in his hair to tighten as Danny moans above him.

"Ah, you're into that shit aren't you?"

Frank glances up for the first time, happy to see Danny's cheeks flushed red and his eyes alight with lust. He craved attention more than anything, good or bad. Slowly he nods, causing the grin on Danny's face to grow.

"Good boy."

A shudder runs through him and he glances down, closing his eyes and focusing on the task at hand. He didn't want to give Danny too much information about kinks he barely understood himself. Danny chuckles and rocks forward into his mouth. Frank gags slightly but manages to not choke as Danny slowly starts thrusting forward. He wasn't too keen on getting his face fucked, but if he threw up on Danny's dick that wasn't his fault. He has a feeling the mans getting close however, and doubles down on his movements. The faster Danny came the sooner he would get back to sucking his dick. The hand in his hair tightens, and Danny lets out a loud grunt as hot cum fills Frank's mouth. The taste is utterly disgusting, and when he tries to pull back the hand in his hair stops him.

With surprising speed Danny pulls out of Frank's mouth and drops into a crouch, covering his mouth with his other hand. Frank glares at him, not missing the sadistic glint in his eyes.

"Swallow."

He wanted nothing more than to spit Danny's own cum right into his cocky face. He takes a slow breath in through his nose, and swallows.

"Good boy. Wasn't so bad was it?" Danny coos, hand drifting over to caress his cheek as he pulls the man into a hug.

"It tastes awful."

"You get used to it." Danny whispers into his ears as he peppers kisses down Frank's neck, "Where was I?"

"Sucking my dick."

"Right."

Danny adjusts his pants before leaning down to retake Frank's cock in his mouth. Before he can even moan the phone rings and Danny jerks up. Grabbing it off the nightstand and answering, thankfully he keeps jacking Frank's cock while he does so.

"Hello?" Danny rolls his eyes immediately, moving the phone a bit to check his watch. His hand twists on an upstroke and Frank hisses in pleasure.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming. Got a little caught up in something." Danny says cheerfully, face looking more dower than ever.

"Of course I'm taking this seriously!" Danny says, giving Frank an annoyed look as he tries to keep his moans down.

"Just tell the Bouvain's I was caught in traffic."

Danny runs his thumb over the head of Frank's cock and he groans loudly, jerking his hips up and cuming all over his t-shirt.

"What was that? Oh I think the people next store are watching a movie. They're real loud." Danny releases Frank's dick and stands, "See you soon, buddy!"

Frank pants, staring up at Danny as he puts the phone back on the receiver.

"God what a cunt. Grab one of my shirts and put your shoes on."

He gets to his feet, pulling his pants on and wiping a majority of the cum off his shirt. His legs felt weak as he tugs the stained shirt off and drops it on the floor.

"Who was that?"

"My boss. Have an interview in three minutes with the Bouvain's wife and kids, oh you should sit in! Since you did kill their father!" Danny says cheerfully as he tosses Frank a shirt, "It's so nice to get paid doing what you love!"

"That sounds fucking awful. Also the kids might recognize me." Frank replies, putting the shirt on and feeling relieved that there was no nasty cologne smell.

"Nah, they're like six." Danny replies, pulling on a familiar leather jacket.

"That's mine."

Danny winks at him and puts his glasses on. Frank is tempted to attack him, but the jacket does look pretty good. A little tight around the shoulders but he made it work.

"I'll give it back. I promise."

He rolls his eyes and slips his shoes on, following Danny out of the room and down the hall. The man leads him to the elevator and Frank notices they're on the second floor. He had been in that hotel room for at least two days and no one was even worried about him expect the gang. And even then they would never go to the cops about it. Hell they'd probably get themselves in trouble trying to find him. Danny unlocks his car and Frank climbs in the passenger side. He was right in assuming they were a town over from Ormond. Ironically the same town Julie went for hockey practice. Danny buckles in and starts the car, pulling out and turning off onto the road.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

Frank looks at Danny and raises his eyebrows, "Black Christmas."

"Ooh, that's a good one. It's me Billy! Don't tell them what we did!" Danny says in a spot on imitation of the killer from the movie.

"I'm gonna kill you."

Frank shudders, turning to look out the window, "What's yours?"

"Halloween."

"Figures." Frank says with a snort, shaking his head, "You see yourself if Michael?"

"Hmm, a little. I can get behind him. Or he can get behind me." Danny snorts at shitty joke.

"Figured your favorite scary movie was Stab."

"Oh please. Billy Loomis based himself on me. I was killing long before that shit head made it popular." Danny sneers angrily. Frank looks at him, amused at just how annoyed Danny was at the mention of the movie.

"Strike a nerve?"

"Fuck off. Billy Loomis, Billy Loomis what the fuck! That homo-repressed rat looking teen gets to be dubbed as the Ghostface of the west coast after I work my goddamn ass off from Philly to fucking Florida killing people. Billy couldn't even take out his bitch of a girlfriend!" Danny rants, waving a hand around in anger.

"...So you don't like Stab?"

"It's a good movie. Made me laugh." Danny replies, immediately reverting back to his calm façade, "You like Nightmare on Elm Street?"

"No. First one was fine but the sequels humor is shitty. If I'm watching a horror movie I wanna see guts."

"Ah, so a Friday fan? Ever seen Evil Dead? Now there's a cute final boy." Danny turns into the lot of a police station, pulling into a parking spot.

"He's looks better in the second and third movie." Frank says, opening the door and getting out of the car. Danny follows, locking it behind him.

"Figured you'd say that."

"Fucks that supposed to mean?"

"You want to get fucked by him."

Frank flips him off, "Fuck you, Danny."

"Also call me Jed here."

"Fuck you,  _ Jed _ ."

The man laughs and holds the door open for Frank, smiling at the police and leading him through the halls. Frank shoves his hands in his pockets and tries not to look suspicious.

"Jed! Finally. Who's that?" A man calls walking over to Danny and giving Frank a sour look.

"Translator."

"What?"

"For French, Weather's. Some paper in uh..."

"Montrèal." Frank supplies, putting on a thicker accent to play along.

"Yes! Montreal wanna a transcript of the interview."

Immediately the man's face lights up and he shakes Frank's hand, introducing himself enthusiastically and ushering the two into an interview room.

"I'll get the Bouvain's." Weather's says before hustling out.

Frank glares at Danny, "Smooth."

Danny passes Frank a small notepad and a blue pen with a chewed cap, "Just take notes, look busy."

"You're so fucking stupid." Frank huffs in French, uncapping the pen and sitting back in the chair.

"You sound so sexy when you speak French like that. Call me a whore next." Danny coos. Before Frank can flip him off the door opens.

A woman and two kids walk in and sit across from them. Danny immediately introduces himself and Frank. Talking to the woman with utmost sincerity and empathy. It churned Frank's gut knowing that Danny had orchestrated the murder of her husband. He was happy to kill, he just didn't want to see a weeping wife and children. Frank sits through the interview in silence, taking a few notes here and there in French as best he can. He watches Danny relish in all the details of the woman talking about finding her husband gutted like a fish in his car. How the senseless violence of it all shook her.

Frank didn't feel guilty over what he did. He was still proud of his killing. Remembering the gory details made his hands shake in excitement as life thrummed through his body. He didn't need so sad bitch telling him how much she hurt. All he wanted to hear was what people said about it. How monsterous and disgusting the crime was. How anyone in their right mind would do such a thing.

He didn't care about the victims. He only cared about the results. Any collateral damage wasn't his fucking problem.

\---

Danny drives him to his house afterwards. Pulling up to the front and putting the car in idle.

"This was fun! We should do it again sometime." Danny chimes, smiling at Frank as if he hadn't held him captive for 48 hours.

"Jacket."

Danny shrugs the leather jacket off and hands it back, "Your knife is in the pocket. Oh! Here's your mask!"

The man reaches into the backseat and pulls it out, passing it over, "Keys and wallet should also be in the pocket."

"Thanks."

Danny smiles at him expectantly, and Frank struggles to come up with exactly what he wanted. He reaches for the door handle only for the locks to engage.

"No goodbye kiss?" Danny prods innocently.

Frank looks around nervously. They were in broad fucking daylight infront of his house. If Clive even got wind he was a fag Frank's ass was on the curb in no time.

"I don't-"

Danny grabs his hair and yanks him forward, smashing their lips together in more of an attack than a kiss. Frank tries to pull away, only to get his lip bitten. He growls and stays still, letting Danny get his kicks.

"That wasn't so bad?" The man asks innocently, releasing Frank's hair and reaching over to unlock the door, "Anyway be good. I'll see you soon."

"Whatever." Frank snaps, opening the door and all but slamming it behind him as ye trudges up his walkway.

"Love you, Franky!"

His stomach twists in an odd way and he quickly unlocks the door, all but slamming it behind him.

"Keep it the fuck down!" Clive screams from his room as Frank marches past him to his own room. Closing the door and leaning against it.

Danny's mind games where starting to get to him, as much as he hated to admit it. The slow touches, trying to cuddle and act like they were in a fucking relationship and not some mutual murder pack. He tosses his jacket onto the ground and rips the mans shirt off, balling it up and throwing it onto his laundry pile. He would do some later, but for now he just wanted to get the smell of that freaks cologne off. Saying he loved him? what a fucking joke.

No one could ever love him. He was a fucking monster for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dan, he falls in love so fast. Frank? Well not so much! 
> 
> P.s: Joey's favorite scary movie is Candyman, Julie's is Psycho, and Susie's is The Thing.  
> Franks second favorite scary movie is Hellraiser and he would, given the chance, fuck pinhead
> 
> (Im shootin for 15 chapters so we might be in the final stretch)


	12. Marked Map

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot Thiccens  
> Also thank u guys for so many sweet comments it really does keep me writing like a crackhead

"Alright now press down on the clutch and take your foot off the gas." Joey says, "Shift gears and slowly move your foot off the clutch until you feel a friction. Then give it gas."

Frank does as he's told, and the truck jerks a bit but stays running. He grins and looks over at Joey who smiles back in approval. This was defiantly one of Frank's better dates, excluding murder of course. He steers carefully around the Chalet and towards the road out of the abandoned resort towards the even more abandoned mines.

"You're a natural at this! Should've taught you sooner!"

"Yeah, I can't believe I never asked." Frank replies, trying to focus on the bumpy road and not careening off. He wasn't that good yet, "Guess I kept expecting Clive to teach me. Still got my Probationary though, I'll get my full soon enough..."

He lets the sentence run off, knowing exactly where Joey would take it. The guy was still fantasizing about running away together. It was really cute, Frank had to admit. Never realized Joey was such a big softie under his bravado. Maybe if he had offered a few months ago Frank would've taken it up. Although he wouldn't want to abandon Susie and Julie, they had their uses.

"Pass me a beer." Frank orders, maneuvering around a big ass log in the road.

"No drunk driving in my truck." Joey replies, cracking his own beer.

"I've seen you drive after half a two-four."

"Im good at it."

That was true, Joey was pretty damn good at driving, he had to admit. Guy had gotten them through some of the worst snowstorms of the century in his shitty old truck. Even if getting through was sitting stuck up on Mt. Ormond for seventeen hours before his dad sent the cops to find them. Fun times though, one hell of a Christmas.

"You still got granola bars in here?"

"Emergency use only." Joey replies, then adds after a sip, "Under the seat near the first aid kit."

Frank reaches down and digs out a granola bar, driving with his knees as he opens it and eats it. The truck swerves a bit and he quickly rightens it, not wanting to plunge down the steep hill and die in a car crash. He pulls into the slight clearing, shifting to a stop and putting the car in park. He jumps out and stretches, enjoying the brisk mountain air and peace. No fucking stalkers out here watching his every move. He gears Joey's door slam and the spray paint cans rustle in his bag. The road had been very overgrown, meaning no one had been up here in a while. Usually only he and the gang went up to the mines, mostly on his request. They always talked about how it was haunted or some shit, but it was just a cool ass hole in the ground.

"Catch." Joey calls, tossing Frank his headlight.

He catches it and straps it on despite how stupid it looked. They needed both hands to fuck around in the mines. He grabs the length of emergency rope from the back along with the old gas lantern, tying the rope to his belt and jogging over to the entrance of the borrasca. It was a steady decline before the tunnels branched out into winding paths. Most of the tunnels were blocked off, but enough shit heads like him had done their part in opening them up over the years. Joey walks up behind him, looking down the dark cave and clicking on his headlight.

"You know this shit creeps me out Frank." Joey says, pulling his bag up. It was pretty rare for Joey to admit he felt anything but fine.

"I know....pussy." Frank replies, nudging his elbow and starting down the familiar tunnel. It hums with a dark energy as their lights illuminate the stone.

"Aren't the explosives still live?" Frank asks, turning back to watch Joey squirm.

"They're at least forty years old. It would be a cold day in hell for them to go off."

Ormond was a real damn shit show, huh? Most action this place had seen since this failed mine was a serial murderer. One of Which who just so happened to be in Calgary today. Frank had found the man's business card in his room when he got home, and after a day of no random attacks, or kidnappings he gave Danny a call of his own. The man told him he had to be in Calgary every Sunday for work shit, but he would be back soon. He hated the way Danny acted as if Frank was some clingy bitch. He just needed to know if it was safe to talk to Joey.

Now that Danny had made his intentions more clear, Frank was dead set on not getting stuck with him again. Truth be told the eccentric personality was growing on him, but he knew exactly what tactics the bastard was using to get him to stay. Used the same ones on the gang. What he needed to be was more prepared. He wasn't going to let himself become dependent on Danny in any way. Soon enough he would branch out and start killing on his own, even if it was fun with the more experienced killer. Like a social event. Frank hooks a sharp left down a particularly dark and spooky tunnel, walking until it opened up into a semi natural cave and stopping. This was a good enough place to tag. He kneels and lights the gas lantern with a match, turning it up and setting it on a big rock for better moderately elevated light. Joey dumps the spray paint cans out of his bag, along with a tape player.

"Susie got that new Rob Zombie album, let me borrow it for a day." Joey says, hitting play on the player and letting the guitar echo out from the chamber.

"Nice." Frank says, grabbing a can of paint and shaking it up. He examines the stone wall, trying to think of what to draw. Maybe a really crudely drawn dick would suffice.

"Hey Frank...can I uh, ask you about...last night?"

"No." He replies, spraying the lines of the balls onto the stone in red. Joey is silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Frank, I think we really do gotta talk about it."

"We really don't."

He hears Joey sighs, and the sound of another can of spray paint being used. Frank hadn't thought of a good excuse for going missing for a few days. He might just stick to his usual half truth, even if that would make Joey upset that he was with another guy while pseudo seeing him. Man this relationship shit sucked. It was so much easier leading Julie on since she kept her fucking mouth shut about him and what he did. Meanwhile Joey found the perfect way to do everything he said while still being an obnoxious shit at times.

"Where were you?"

"Next town over."

Joey's face falls into a confused little frown, "Doing what?"

"What the fuck are you? The cops? Can't let me live my fucking life?" Frank snaps, already considering throwing his can of spray paint at Joey.

"Dude we thought you fucking died! There's a fucking psycho killer out there and you dropped off the face of the fucking earth after I saw something in the back yard at Julie's. Like fuck, Frank what the fuck were we supposed to think!"

That was pretty sweet of the gang, if not annoying. Their concern was going to get them killed at this rate. If he wasn't sure Danny would be out of town he wouldn't even have left his house. He could respect the man's methods, but no one touched the others. They were his.

"That I was off on at some rager party and not dead? What kind of fucked up logic is 'h Frank hasn't called, maybe he's dead!' I have a life outside of you geeks." 

A look of hurt flashes on Joey's face, and Frank doubles down.

"Don't get me wrong, you guys are my number ones, but I gotta go out and talk to people my own age for once."

"I'm only two years younger than you."

"Whatever." Frank turns back to the wall and starts painting some nondescript angry swirls. The music continues to echo out, covering the rumble of darker forces at work.

"Were you with that guy?"

A grin spreads onto Frank's face. Joey sounds real jealous. Unlike the cold chill of Danny's envy Joey's is much more sad and pitiful. He can't help but poke at it a bit.

"He was there, yes."

"His cologne smells awful."

Frank stiffens, pausing his aimless lines to look over to Joey. The man was spraying on a very impressive looking skull in blue paint.

"What?"

"I can smell it on you. Shits practically rubbing alcohol."

That was true, he should take a shower to get the stench off. The fact that he had gotten used to it already was gross. Although it was different than whatever Ghostface had worn last time they fucked. Maybe he would ask about it.

"So are you two like...a thing?" Joey continues, "Like uh, dating?"

"Oh fuck no. We just have mutual interest."

Joey grunts in response. Interesting to see him deal with this. Usually Julie would laugh it off and try to impress him in other ways. Joey seemed to take it all bit personally,l. Maybe he was more insecure? Then again he would be the same way if he was a fag. He drops his now empty can, stepping back to look at the flowing red lines. It was an intricate pattern, far more artistically creative than Frank was known for. He stares at the lines, feeling a strange throb in his head before quickly looking away. Joey was adding the finishing touches to his skull, adorning it with some dope red eyes.

"Nice."

"Thanks."

Frank sits next to the lamp, watching Joey paint a very impressive rendition of the Legion mural from the lodge. Quickly his thoughts wander to Danny. The man was so much different from his Ghostface persona. The killer was dark in a mysterious and playful way, which actually wasn't that much different than Danny now that he thought about it. Perhaps it had something to do with actually seeing the man's face when he talked, instead of over the phone, notes or body language.

Danny was cold and calculated in the same way a frozen lake was deadly. Safe on the surface, but find a thin patch and fall in then no one can save you.

Ghostface was obsessed with him, plain and simple. He had put a target on his back and now Danny wanted his ass on a silver fucking platter. As much as he hated to admit it, Frank loved the thrill of it all. Real danger was a rare thing in Ormond until recently, unless you went out into the woods of course. Even if he was kidnapped, stalked, and threatened by a serial murdered he wasn't scared, no. Frank was fucking thrilled. The only thing that would make this situation perfect would be if Danny would quite threatening his friends.

"Y'know that Jed guy stopped by my house a day ago."

"What." Frank feels rage spark in his heart.

"Yeah, like weirdly early. He talked to my dad about something, he almost saw me on my way downstairs too."

The fact that Danny went out to talk to Joey while he was all locked up in that hotel room made him shake with anger. So what he and Joey were friends, he was friends with Susie and Julie. Hell he had been closer to Julie than anyone else, why the fuck was Danny targetting them.

"What did he want?"

"Dunno, didn't ask."

Frank would ask later, see if he could get him to leave Joey alone for the most part. At least the girls were under his radar.

"Frank, can we go now? This place feels weird."

For once he could agree there. Wordlessly he grabs the lantern and tucks the cans back in the bag. As the leave the cave to more fresh air, a pressure seems to fade. They sit in the back of Joey's pick up for a good hour, drinking through a twenty four pack and talking aimlessly. He listens to Joey brag about how he made a freshman piss his pants at the sight of him. Frank can't help but laugh at how mean Joey was especially mean to freshman after he hit his growth spurt. Really put the pressure on them. Julie and Susie were more psychological in their bullying. The point and giggle routine was a real fucking cincher. Girls were real mean.

"Want the last one?" Joey asks cuts in, holding the can up.

"Sure."

Joey takes out his knife and stabs a hole in the bottom before putting it to his mouth and popping the top. He shotguns the can in only a few seconds.

"Fucker."

The man laughs and tosses the empty can away as Frank lights a cigarette instead, stretching out as he takes a breath in and blows smoke towards the fading light. They had been out here for a while. Time flies, huh?

"Frank...it's been five months to the day since we...we killed that guy." Joey says slowly, staring into the mouth of the borrasca like it would have answers.

"Sure has been, eh?" Frank replies, flicking ash away after another deep drag. His hands feel warm at the thought.

"The town just moved on..."

They sure had. Frank only had around fifteen clippings from that murder. First one in the towns history too.

"Real shame too. Being in the papers was fun."

Joey's warm brown eyes turn to Frank's, alight with concern and disgust at the statement. Frank simply shrugged, it was the truth.

"Feelin' guilty?" Frank offers, trying to relate to Joey's plite superficially.

"A bit, yeah. I try not to think about it, so does Julie. We just kinda...put it outta our thoughts? Susie's been real fucked up over it."

That was news to Frank. Susie seemed just fine these past few months. A bit shaky at first but she straightened out real well.

"Don't tell her I told you. She's not gonna crack, it's just...y'know. Eating at her more than us."

He would keep a closer eye on her. Make sure she wasn't trying to rat then out.

"Well I wouldn't worry about it. No one cares, no one suspects us. Just...forget about it." Frank says, waving a dismissive hand, "Not like you guys actually did much. He was already dead when I got his lung."

Joey visibly shudders, and Frank almost misses how stone cold Danny was when it came to the gory details. Maybe he would tell him about the killing eventually, get his reactions.

"Speaking of, Susie wants to meet us all at the chalet." Joey says, getting to his feet and jumping out the back. A cold breeze ruffles the leaves, and Frank tosses his cigarette on the ground and jumps down.

"Sure thing. You drive."

Silence fills the cab as they fly down the dirt road towards the resort. Sun backlighting the broken ski lift following them down the trail. Joey pulls up to the Chalet and stops the car, putting his keys in the sunscreen before hopping out. Julie's bright red hair pokes out from the top and waves down to them.

"You up in the borrasca, eh?" Julie calls.

"Don't worry we didn't see any ghosts." Joey replies, leading the way into the rundown building.

Susie was sitting in the middle of the floor next to a portable fire pit they had dragged out. Warm flames crackled and illuminati the lobby. He notices something clutched in her hands as he sits across from her. Joey and Julie take a seat on his other sides, basking in the warmth of the fire.

"So this an intervention or what? Am I spending too much time away from you geeks?" Frank asks, letting a lethal amount of venom slip into his voice.

"Well, kinda." Julie replies, completely nonplussed by his temper, "Susie, show him."

He watches Susie unfold the paper in her hands and pass it to him around the flames. He looks at it to see a map of the neighborhoods in Ormond. Seven houses were crossed out, and one was circled.

"Gee, guys. I really did need this map to my house." Frank rolls his eyes and almost tosses it into the fire until Julie grabs his hand.

"Frank the houses crossed out are Ghostface's victims."

"Uh, actually Julie one of those victims is ours. Or did you forget its grave was less than forty yards from here?"

Julie looks away quickly. Guilt flashed across her face light lightning.

"They make a circle Frank, and your house is dead center." Susie says quietly.

He looks at the map again, staring at the x marks drawn in pink gel pen. She was right. The murders circled his house like a pack of vultures. It was perfect, it had to be.

"So?"

"I-I think Ghostface is trying to kill you!" Susie says, fidgeting with her hair, "I thought he actually already got you. I mean think about it all those creepy calls and you not getting any sleep! I think your like...instincts know he's out there watching you or something!"

The six little x marks stare up at him. He tries to mentally place the other houses he had been at only to see that they also filled gaps in the circle. It was an obvious bullseye pointed right at him. But why. Why the fuck would-

"We have to call the cops." Julie's voice breaks his thoughts.

"No. Absolutely fucking not." Frank snaps, tossing the map aside, "We are not getting the fucking cops involved."

"Frank-"

"No, you fucking listen to me Susie. No fucking cops and none of this bullshit!" Frank yells, getting to his feet to glower down at his friends. They had gotten way too fucking comfortable with him.

"You fucking morons have done nothing but stress me the fuck out of this dumb Ghostface shit. Two months ago when I was actually fucking  _ scared _ you laughed in my face and now this!"

He stoops to grab the map from the floor and hold it up, "This fucking shit is what you show me? And you all wonder why I just vanish for two days, because I'm sick of these stupid ass crack pot theories!" Frank's voice rises to a deafening scream as Susie looks down in shame.

He drops the map into the fire, enjoying the way Susie flinches as the fire blazes up in front of him.

"You think I'm still afraid of that dumb fucking ghost? All he does is kill little old ladies and stupid teens in their houses. I'm the first god damn killer in fucking Ormond and if that cunt actually comes for me it be his funeral. You're lucky he hasn't gotten any of you."

Silence falls in the chalet as the rest of them refuse to look him in the eye. He was getting sick of their concern now that he had things to do and killers to fuck. Manipulating these morons was his hobby, they were small game in an ever growing pond. Ghostface wouldn't kill him. Danny said it himself.

That circle wasn't marking Frank as a victim. It was Ghostface telling the Legion that Frank belonged to him.

He kicks the fire pit over. Coals, ashes, and flames spill out onto the floor. Narrowly missing Julie and a sobbing Susie. Joey jumps up and quickly starts to stomp out the flames as Frank starts towards the door.

"Frank wait-"

He raises two middle fingers over his shoulders and slams the door to the abandoned chalet so hard he hears it crack.

This was to keep them safe. When crossing a frozen lake, you have to stay separated or risk putting too much weight on the ice.

And once you fall in, no one can save you but yourself.

\---

"Jed speaking!" A chipper voice sounds from the line. Frank stares at the TV in the living room. Clive was watching a Seinfeld rerun.

"Hey, it's me." Frank replies, putting on the best gloomy voice he can.

"Aww, what's wrong Franky?" Danny replies, immediately slipping into the raspy Ghostface voice he loves.

"Gangs bein' a bunch of fucking downers. Kept askin' me all these questions about where I was..."

"Ooh, what did you tell them?" Ghostface asks, sounding genuinely curious. Frank can hear a scraping sound on the line between breaths.

"Told them to fuck off. Got kinda heated actually, was a bit buzzed. I might've gone too far." Frank mumbles, tossing some bait out.

"Fuck 'em. Don't need friends when you got me Franky."

Hook, line, and sinker.

"You're so sweet." Frank sneers, rolling his eyes before adding, "Thanks though."

He hears another scraping noise and frowns, "Fuck is that?"

"Sharpening my knife."

"That an innuendo or..?"

Ghostface laughs, a light and deep chuckle as the sound is heard again, "It's not."

Sure felt like one. Silence falls and Frank pushes off the counter and walks to his room. He can hear steady breathing on the line as he lays on his bed. Danny was trying to isolate him from his friends, that much was obvious.

"So...what are you wearing?"

Frank holds in an honest to god laugh. Danny wasn't being serious with that was he? Jesus christ he didn't know if he wanted to play along or shoot him down.

"Uh, your shirt?" Frank lies, he hears a hum on interest on the other side.

"Really now?"

"Yeah. It smells like you." He doesn't mention that Danny's particular smell was bad. Instead he enjoys the sharp intake of breath.

"That's sweet, Franky." Ghostface coos.

He pulls the phone away from his ear to snort a bit. This was so fucking funny. Oh god what if he tried to have phone sex? No way in hell Frank could do that shit.

"Anyway, I gotta go."

"So soon?"

"Yeah I uh, was gonna shower and worry about my friend stuff tomorrow. Unless you're busy then we could...hang out?"

"Thought you hated Jed." Ghostface replies, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I know, but I really like Danny." Frank replies, testing the waters carefully. Now was too early for the big guns, he had to string Danny along.

"He likes you too, Franky."

The line dies suddenly, and he's left alone to his thoughts. He liked Danny sure, but he had big plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U may have Noticed somethin in the description of the fic >:3c
> 
> We in the final stretch boiz. The next chapter is kinda...filler tbh and will be short but its ok i really think yall will like the twist


	13. Cold Dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not happy with this chapter but whatever (':

Frank wakes up to the phone ringing. Groggily he sits up and finds it tangled in his sheets.

"Hello?"

"Frank I-"

He smashes the end call button before Julie can even finish her sentence. Shortly after the call with Ghostface he passed out. Must've forgotten to put the phone up. Frank pulls himself out of bed bright and early at seven and trudges to the shower he skipped last night, taking it quick and cold. As soon as he pulls a pair of fresh jeans on the phone rings again.

"Fuck off I'm sick-"

"Frank." Danny's cold voice stops him in his tracks.

"Oh shit, thought you were someone else..." Frank mumbles, yawning slightly and running a hand through his wet hair, "Whats up?"

"You busy? Figured we could go on a date since I'll be in Ormond."

"Oh we stalking a new target or somethin?" Frank asks, opening his dresser to find no shirts. He really needed to do laundry.

"No I mean lunch and a movie."

Frank snorts, "Good one"

"I'm serious."

Frank grabs Danny's shirt from his pile of shame and puts it on. It was the cleanest and worst smelling garment he had on hand.

"I ain't no fag."

Danny laughs on the other end, "What was it you said when I fucked you last week? Harder? Don't stop? Cum inside me? Real heterosexual, Franky."

He feels heat rise to his cheeks at the memory and mocking tone Danny used. Frank had almost forgotten that Danny was the one who fucked him.

"That's different." Frank grumbles.

"Of course, of course. How about platonic lunch between two people with shared interests?"

"You pay."

"Ooh, am I your sugar daddy?"

Frank rolls his eyes and slips his shoes on, "You can be whatever the fuck you wanna be as long as you get me food."

"Spoken like a true pillow princess. Met you at the Tim Horton's in an hour baby, love you!" Danny chimes, ending the call before Frank can reply. What a fucking freak.

He walks out to the living room and drops the phone on the receiver before making his way to Tim's. Danny should be here in an hour or so, might as well get there early.

\---

Frank was waiting outside when Danny pulls up in his car. He waves at Frank as he walks around to get in the passenger seat. The man looked a little tense despite how chipper he was on the phone only an hour ago.

"What's up?"

"Nothing." Danny replies, pulling out quickly. Frank raises his eyebrows and tilts his head.

"You can tell me. We are...people with shared interests"

Danny perks up at that, smiling at Frank like he just gave him lotto numbers.

"There's a new detective on the Ghostface case. Sheriff told me before I left."

That was interesting. Frank had heard some people talking about it while he was ordering breakfast. Although he didn't think much of it.

"And?"

"Well he's not a moron like the rest of the force." Danny says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he drives, "I'm meeting with him soon to interview him about the case. No doubt he's already planning on talking to your buddies. Oh then we get lunch!"

Frank tries to seem nonplussed at that remark despite how foreboding it was. No doubt Danny trying to get at his nerves.

"Why?"

"Wouldn't be surprised if he figures out Doe wasn't mine. Don't mind the credit, but that doesn't bode well for your buddies."

Shit, no wonder the guy was so tense. He leans back on the seat, wondering what this means for him. Hopefully the new detective isn't that good and they have more time to get their shit together. Keep suspicion off the less murder inclined.

"So what's the plan? We kill him or something?" Frank asks as they pull into the lot near the station.

"Dunno yet. I wanna see how much he knows in the interview and get back to you. Hopefully he's not too far along."

"And if he is?"

Danny stops the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. He leans back in the car seat and lets out a sigh, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on.

"I'll let you know when I see how he's doing, that okay Franky?"

He didn't like Danny being so dodgy about such a big fucking topic, but lets it slide.

"Alright."

Danny gets out of the car and Frank follows, not wanting to sit in the vehicle like a freak. Although he wasn't going to be going into the station, didn't need to give the cops an excuse to pester him. He follows Danny down the alley he was choked out in.

"You like my shirt a lot, huh?" Danny teases, wrapping an arm around Frank's shoulder. He only allows it since no one is around to see.

Right, he said he had been wearing it last night.

"Uh, yeah I...need to do laundry."

"Me too. You guys are out of detergent."

Frank stops dead in his tracks, "What?"

Danny turns and smiles lovingly at him, "I've been doin' my laundry at your place since I got here."

"Freak."

"Laundromats are so expensive." Danny muses, "Also gotta cancel the date. Cop stuff might take longer than expected. Sorry."

Frank remains where he is watching Danny round the corner before, leaning against the wall and only being a little put out at the loss of dinner. Might pick something up at work even if they only sold granola and beef jerky. He smokes his way through two cigarettes before crouching down and leaning against the wall. He was wondering how to broach the subject of the circle of corpses when he hears some familiar voices.

"Joey just give it up. Frank's not going to ever get serious. That's just how he is." Julie's voice drifts down the alley. He's tempted to pop out and scare them, but unfortunately he was still making point.

"Maybe he just doesn't like girls..." Joey's reply fades as they walk off and Frank laughs.

Those two were a real shit show. At least Susie was smart enough to get the hint. He waits a good ten more minutes before Danny finally rounds the corner with a frown. That's no good.

"What's up?"

"He's a real bitch." Danny says, tugging his glasses off and shoved them in his pocket, "I'm gonna drop you off I need to go to my hotel."

"Why?"

"Tell you later."

Frank nods, getting back into Danny's car. Might as well just ask.

"Hey Danny, I noticed something about you victims."

"You mean Susan did."

He turns to look at Danny, who was buckling his seatbelt casually, "Susie Sainte-Marie. She was at the station asking about the murders. Real smart one that girl. You know her mom recently got an eviction notice, hope she gets that figured out."

Danny smiles at him, and Frank's stomach turns in disgust. Casually reminding Frank that he had the lives of the only fucking people he cared for under a knives blade.

"What's with the map. Why is my house dead center of all your victims."

He starts the car, pulling out and tapping his fingers to Killer Queen idly.

"You tell me."

"Are you marking me?"

The man laughs, a smug smile playing on his lips, "Just having a little fun, Franky. With all that detective work you did earlier I figured you'd notice."

It was a bit annoying he never thought to geoprofile, but that was more work than cutting out news articles so he would pass. Instead he sits back in his seat and watches the town pass.

"You missed my house."

"I'm taking you to work. Your shift starts soon. Should tell your boss giving away your schedule is illegal."

\---

Later comes in a phone call after work that night. It was nine when the call comes, and Frank picks it up expecting Julie or Joey. Honestly he forgot about the shit at the station earlier.

"Frank, bad news." Danny's voice sounds from the receiver. He sounded genuinely panicked.

"What?"

"Cops are onto us."

Well shit. That's not fucking good. It takes a moment for real panic to set in, and when it does his heart starts to hammer.

"You sure?" Frank asks, quickly running to his room and closing the door.

"Yes I'm fucking sure, Frank. Sheriff called me up asking if I could do another interview with new detective tonight."

"So?"

"Frank they're coming to fucking arrest me. Probably search the hotel too."

Frank takes a breath and sits on his bed, trying to calm his nerves and think. This was real fucking bad, he never ever expected to get caught at all. The thrill of the idea was nice, but the actual probability of getting locked up made him sweat.

"Listen Franky, if they catch me then you're next. And after you they'll learn all about the murder you and your buddies did. Think Susie Sainte-Marie is going to get one of your countries starlight tours? Think Joey is going to get a fair fucking trial? Only person getting out of that mess is rich little Julie Becker."

He grips the phone so hard he can hear it creak, "Shut the fuck up."

Danny takes a few breaths, "We can avoid that if we leave. Tonight."

Frank nods, standing and grabbing his old backpack, "You can come pick-"

"No. My cars being monitored. It's a rental they'll be able to track it down. You need to get a car."

"Where the fuck am I-"

"Joey."

Frank shakes his head, shoving a few sets of clothes and his mask into the bag. That was way too far.

No way."

"His truck is perfect. We just need it to get as far as Calgary. I have a fake ID so I can get another car and cross the border into the state's. Not to mention it buys us time since Joey won't report it missing." Danny says, talking quickly and breathlessly. He can hear him moving around too, no doubt packing a bag.

The man had a point, but Frank really wasn't too keen on stealing Joey's car after his blow up. But as long as he got it back it wouldn't be too big of a deal.

"Are you sure they think your Ghostface? If they're just suspicious then let them arrest you and I'll kill someone so-"

"Frank I have detailed routines of every single victim in my back fucking pocket. We need to fucking go." Danny lets out an angry sigh, "I can leave on my own and let you take the fall if I wanted. But I'm not, work with me here Frank. I'm trying to protect you and your friends."

Mixed emotions churn in Frank's gut. He didn't want to leave Ormond yet, not without the others and especially not with Danny. But if he stayed he ran the risk of getting them all caught up in Ghostface case.

"If I skip town, the suspicion ends at me." Danny says, voice even and comforting, "Everyone will write off Doe as my body count, and you can come back to Ormond to collect your feral teenagers."

"It would be suspicious if I-"

"Just say you were afraid the Ghostface was stalking you and skipped town for a bit. They'll believe you. Hell you buddies will back you up."

Frank loops the bag over his shoulder and lets out a slow breath. Danny was right, and he needed to act fast.

"Where do I meet you?"

"I'm on my way to Ormond. Meet me at the mouth of the trail to the resort. We'll hide up there for a night, it'll loop the cops."

"Okay, I'll be there soon"

"Love you, baby" Danny says, voice low and slimy before Frank hangs up.

He leaves out the backdoor, staying out of sight of the main street as he walks the route to Joey's house for the last time. He puts his mask on, and lets himself feel numb. This was no place for cowards.

Frank was a lot of things, but he was no fucking quitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the last 2 chapters all ready to go its taking my entier being to not post them now. Im gonna edit them today and drop both tomorrow be ready boiz


	14. Discordance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every one commenting asking about a happy ending made me >:)

Frank climbs up the drain pipe and pushes Joey's window open, swinging inside and landing softly on the carpet. Despite the late hour the room was empty, just the usual slight mess Joey always left it. He starts looking around for the mans car keys, poking at a few loose pages of homework on his desk. The initial shock of Danny's news had worn off, now all he felt was cold survival instinct. He needed to get out of fucking Ormond any way he could.

"Frank?"

He whirls around to see Joey standing in the doorway for what might be the last time. The thought brings a strange feeling of pain, but he pushes past it.

"Joey I need your help." He says, putting as much desperation in his voice as he can and lifting the mask, "I fucked up."

The mans glare softens, and he closes and locks his door before walking over to Frank. Awkwardly reaching out but hesitating before making contact.

"What's the matter?"

Shit, he had to think fast.

"I-I really fucked up big time. That guy I was seeing he-he..." Frank trails off, covering his face and taking a few theatrical shaking breaths. He was awful at producing crocodile tears, better to just fake it.

Immediately Joey's arms wrap around him and pull him close. The man is warm, so much warmer than Danny. He leans in, hugging Joey back for the first and last time. The action brings comfort to him, calming the racing of his heart.

"Hey, Franky it's okay! You're safe now."

He wasn't, but that's for later. Now he was surviving.

"I need your truck." He says, clearing his throat to sound pitiful, "I need to get out of Ormond right the fuck now. Just for a little bit okay I'll be back soon."

He can feel Joey's hesitence, and squeezes him tighter.

"Have you called the cops?"

Frank shakes his head, "I don't want Clive to find out."

Joey nods, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. It's incredibly soothing. The few times Danny did it he hated it.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Only a few days..." Frank lies, pulling back to look up at Joey, he puts on a carefully pained and hopeful expression that no doubt tugs on the mans heartstrings.

"When I get back we can run away together. Just us and the open road."

Hope flares up in the deep brown of Joey's eyes, all the colors the rainbow forgot.

"Promise."

"Promise." Frank lies.

Joey looks near tears as he pulls away, "Okay let me get you the keys."

He watches Joey leave, impressed that it was so easy. One day he would be back, he couldn't leave his legion behind. Once they got to Calgary he would shake Danny off and get down to Ormond. The cops only had shit on Danny, he had alibis for any murder he was connected with that will hold up. He could even frame Jed for stalking and blackmailing him since he still had that fucked up Polaroid. And the map would just make him seem innocent, all he had to do was play along and help Danny escape. The door opens and Joey tosses him his keyring, Frank catches it easily.

"Tanks full. Put it in neutral and back out, roll down the street before starting it. I'll do my best to keep my dad from reporting it stolen." Joey whispers, "Oh I uh...mom made soup so I.."

A thermos is shoved in his hands, warmth emanating through his bandages. Frank smiles at the gesture, Joey really was too good for him.

"Thanks."

He stands on his tip toes and presses a kiss to Joey's cheek.

"When I get back we can leave together. Find a place in Quebec or somethin' and bring the girls over."

Joey smiles, "Sounds great, man."

"Tell them I said...see you soon."

Frank pulls the mask down and drops out of Joey's window, landing on the earth with a slight thud. He makes his way around the house and unlocks Joey's truck, carefully putting it into neutral and letting it roll back out of the driveway before starting the engine and making his way to the trail. He pulls the mask to the side and flips the lights off until he gets out of town, pulling up to the opening of the trail and looking into the woods for Danny.

A tap on the glass makes him jump. He looks at the passenger door to see Ghostface holding a knife and a bag. The man waves as Frank leans over and pops the lock, tossing a duffle bag in before jumping inside and buckling up. Danny pulls the mask off and sets it on the bag. The dark circles under his eyes were heavier than ever, and his five o' clock shadow had progressed to a more Hasn't Shaved In Two Days look.

"Drive." Danny orders as he buckles his seatbelt. Frank nods and starts up the curving path to the Ormond Resort.

"What's the plan?" Frank asks as Danny leans over and turns the headlights off. Thankfully the full moon illuminates the road enough for him to see.

"You have no idea what I have planned for us. It'll be in the news for weeks. I'll make sure of that." Danny says softly, eyes staring straight ahead without wavering. Frank smiles, he was hoping they'd rack up a few victims before leaving town at the least.

"Where's your rental?"

"Bottom of a lake. Along with some evidence."

He lets out an impressed whistle, that was going pretty far.

"Say Frank, I'm not caught up on Canadian law, can you enlighten me?"

"I look like a lawyer?"

"It's an easy question."

He glances over at the man as they crest a hill, passing under the dilapidated Welcome To Mt. Ormond Resort sign.

"Shoot."

"Does Canada have the death penalty?"

"No." Frank replies, noticing how Danny's voice drops to a dull monotone.

"Well, Florida does."

There's a sound of movement to his side and a heavy boot slams on the gas, crushing his foot. The engine lets out a whine as the gears grind, automatically Frank hits the clutch with his other foot, attempting to shift gears as the engine shrieks and the truck accelerates.

"Danny what the fuck!" Frank screams, yanking the wheel to the left to avoid smashing into the side of the Chalet. The truck drifts dangerously, back fishtailing as Frank desperately tries to get control back in a vehicle he had driven for less than two hours.

Danny is silent, foot pressing down on the gas pedal until it hits the floor. Frank taps the brake with his other foot stalling the car for a moment only for a searing pain to shoot through his left thigh. A quick glance down reveals a hunting knife embedded in his leg, Danny's gloved hands pull the wet red blade out halfway and twist. Frank howls in pain, looking up to see the truck barreling towards a fucking boulder. Danny jerks the wheel, causing the truck to drift again. Frank covers his bleeding wound with a hand as the engine dies from the abuse.

The trucks bumps down the bunny hill slope, gaining more and more speed as the tree lines loom closer. Pain runs up his leg as warm blood soak into his hands and bandages. It wasn't as fun when it was his own

"I'm not gonna die." Ghostface whispers, hand grabbing the back of Frank's head and slamming it into the steering wheel.

He sees stars, and hears the grinding of metal before blissful darkness overtakes him.

-

-

-

An owl hoots. Susie always said they were a bad omen. Creatures of death. He wrote it off as aboriginal bullshit but hey, maybe she was right.

"Fuck!" Danny growls from his right. He hears a thud and another curse, "God of fucking course."

Frank stays still, holding his breath as an arm pushes him back against the seat. He allows his head to look limp as the driver door is open.

"You always make things so difficult, Frank. Glad you don't wear a seatbelt." Danny says with a sigh, as if he was talking to a child.

A boot kicks his shoulder and he tumbles out of the car and face first onto the cool ground. He cant hold back a pained groan as his open wound rubs in the dirt, pain and soreness running through his body like blood. Never been in a car crash before.

"Shit you still alive? Tenacious little fuck, huh?" Danny says, talking to himself more than Frank.

"Always making things difficult," He feels Danny step over him and kneel down, "That's what I love about you though."

"Don't mind me," He says as fingers grip his hair and yank his head up. He lets out a groan of pain and opens his eyes to see a camera pointed at his face. He coughs up a mouthful of blood.

"That's it, keep going. Perfect." The flash goes off and Danny releases his hair and his head falls into the dirt. The world was slowly coming back into clarity.

"That's the image I'll keep of you" Danny says, his weight lifting off his back.

"I really do love you Franky, wanted to run off on an American road trip!" The voice above him continues, he can hear the man rustling in the truck before a boot appears in front of his eyes.

"But you just can't leave Ormond behind you. Can't leave your legion of teens, huh? Guess if I had three little lackeys following my every word to the letter I'd wanna stick around too."

Frank forces himself up on his elbows, pain shooting up his legs and sides. Never had he felt like such utter shit before. He raises his head to look up at Danny, silhouetted in the moonlight, and feels rage bubble inside him. It leaks out his wounds, and drips into his eyes and Danny crouches down, monstrous smile on his face.

"Joey fuck you like I do? Or do you fuck him?" Danny sneers, jealousy dripping off his words. The man hums, tilting his head before smiling. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, blood dripping onto the dirt as Frank pants heavily.

"I did want to do this to you, Frank. But relationships are a give and take, and all you do it take."

A hand gently cups his cheek and he jerks away, causing the world to spin. He takes a deep breath and more pain flares up in his ribs as he rises to his knees. Rage at Danny's betrayal was wrapping around his brain, making the edges of his vision darken and twist. His breaths were heavy and labored as a cool thick mist begins to waft out from the trees. Danny looks around with mild curiosity, taking his eyes of Frank's beat up form to turn to the woods.

His mistake.

"You were one of the first targets when I came into town. So vulnerable without even-"

In one smooth motion Frank rises to his feet and pulls his knife from his belt. He slashes at Danny, just missing when the man ducks under the bright steel. Frank lunges again, bring the knife down and stabbing through the flesh of Danny's right arm. He can feel the blade scrap bone as Danny falls back a bit, only letting out a grunt before pushing against the knife and shoving Frank off him. His grip on the blade is firm, and it slides out easily.

He watches the man scramble back a few inches, breaths coming more like the growls of a feral animal as he drops down and stabs his knife into Danny's ankle. Cutting through the thick boot and Achilles heel to pierce the dirt below. This time Danny lets out a broken scream as he yanks him forward, twisting the knife with a lovely squelching noise. Slicing the man's nerves and tendons like butter. He rips the knife out and stabs it into Danny's shoulder.

Stars flash across his vision and he's thrown back when Danny's fist smashes into his head. He manages to maintain a grip on the knife as he back slams into the open door off the truck.

"You little fuck." Danny hisses, rage alighting in his eyes as the world stops spinning. The blood blends in almost seamless with the black coat. Fabric tassels wafting in a nonexistent breeze.

Frank gets to his feet, left leg protesting in pain and he jumps back into the truck and slams the door. He can hear Danny lunge against the door and a knife scraping the metal as he pushes the lock down. The handle jiggles and he scoots along the seat to lock passenger door, noticing that it was wedged firmly against a tree making it impossible to open anyway. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, wiping the knife on his jacket and returning it to sheath. He can hear Danny cursing and moving outside, yelling random insults as he tries to find a way into the truck. The front and side windows were cracked, but thankfully still intact. He can see where the car swerved and hit a large rock. Flinging them against the tree line and totalling it.

With a few shallow breaths Frank digs under the seat for the emergency kit Joey kept in the car. He uncaps a water bottle and dumps it over his stab wound, cleaning the dirt and blood out of the cut as best he can in the dim light of the moon. He quickly soaks a cotton round with rubbing alcohol, dabbing the wound and hissing at the sting. Frank wasn't too keen on taking his pants off now to really clean it, instead opting to affix a few pieces of butterfly tape and gauze pad to the surface before winding a bandage around his thigh as tightly as he can. As long as he could walk he was doing better than Danny. He could hear him hoping around outside and the truck shaking from him using it as a brace.

To think he fucking trusted Danny, the Ghostface killer. The sick fuck had been stalking him for months, he had his schedual, his friends schedual, a ring of fucking death around his house. The man was just fucking toying with him. Frank thought he had the man figured out that the guy just wanted a partner to mix things up. Some shitty little twink to fuck and kill with. The freak was a cuddler after all, must get lonely being a psychopath. The man was off the fucking deep end and Frank didn't read the writing on the fucking wall. Now he had to figure out what to do. He had enough excuses to get away with his murders, if he killed Danny now it would very much be self defence. He could say Jed seduced him and shit, he'd have to paint himself as a fag but that was better than jail-

A menacing tapping sounds from the window, and Frank looks up from the bloody bandages. Danny smiles at him lovingly, eyes cold and dead as he stares at him through the glass. Frank sneers, and gives him the finger.

Danny raises his red right hand, and dangles the car keys in Frank's face. Dread has never made its home in Frank's heart faster.

The lock pops up before Frank can leap forward push it down. Danny rips the door open and grabs Frank by the lapels of his jacket, yanking him out of the truck and tossing him to the ground. The mist had thickened impossibly so in a few minutes he was in the truck. Danny was barely visible in the fog despite being only a few feet away. The straps on his coat flutter and wave as if moved by some invisible force as he limps heavily forward, blood spurting out of his mangled ankle as he hobbles at Frank with murderous intent. Frank pushes himself to his feet, thigh screaming in dull throbbing pain but he's able to stand. Pulling the knife out and raising it, waiting to strike.

"You were going go be so fucking famous, Franky. Ormond's final Ghostface victim. They were gonna find you all fucked up in your buddys car, surronded by all the evidence in the fucking world." Danny sneers, limping toward Frank with a manic strength. He takes a step back towards the treeline.

"Gonna think you were the killer, give me enough time to write a incredible fucking piece about you. I was gonna pour my heart and soul into it...get the cops off Jed Olsen's back for a bit." The man continues ranting, voice cold and dead.

"Maybe if you didn't fuck around so much we could've just been together, Franky. You, me, good old American style killing spree. Bonnie and fucking Clyde."

Frank could make a run for it. The fog was thick, and the woods was at his back. He could run a few paces in and find a tree to wait behind. If Danny found him he could get the drop on the fucker and stab him to death, guy could barely walk.

"I wouldn't do that, Franky. There's something in the woods." Danny says, cold dark eyes reading his mind.

"Yeah, the fucking bears that are going to eat your fucking liver you sick cunt."

A smile graces Danny's lips. Blood drips off his chin, and he lunges forward. Fingers brush against Frank's jacket as a knife is stabbed into his shoulder. This pain feels different, almost mild as he jumps back and lets Danny fall to the dirt. He pulls the knife out of his shoulder, dropping it next to Danny.

"Oh we aren't getting outta this one." Danny babbles, pushing himself up as Frank jumps back and skirts around him. Taking the time to stomp on his bloody ankle. Pulling a pained desperate scream from the man.

"Fuck you." Frank hisses, hobbling back to the car. Danny could rot in this fucking resort like the rest of this town.

"It's coming for us. The thing in the fog. Can't you feel it?"

He limps towards the truck through the thick grey mist. Putting sounds of Danny's labored breathing behind him. There was a flashlight in there along with food and water. He could hike down to the main road in a few hours, even with the injury. Get to the cops and they could find Danny's body. He can make an alibi and get out scott free he could....he could...

Frank stops, wobbling on his leg and dropping to a crouch. This wasn't right. Where was the fucking truck. It had only been ten feet away. The fog was so fucking thick but he couldn't have gone in the wrong direction. He pants, catching his breath before forcing himself up and limping faster. The truck was here he just hadn't gone far enough. He tugs his mask down, taking comfort in the small cover as panic lights his mind.

The fog boils around him. He should have hit a tree. A rock. Something. Only grass and dirt were below his feet. His breaths are coming faster and ragged. Blood had soaked through the bandage and was running down his leg in warm sticky streams. He could feel his broken rib shifting as he tried to breath, and the blood dripping from his shoulder.

"Danny?" He calls, spinning around in the milky fog, "What the fuck is going on!"

Frank wasn't afraid, not really. Through all of this he didn't feel fear. Just rage and the animal instinct to survive. Panic and adrenaline flood his system, but no fear. But now something was gripping into his mind. Apprehension.

There was one thing he hated to be. He was the life of the party for a reason. He kept the legion on a tight leash for a reason. He ignored all the bright garish warning signs about for a fucking reason.

He didn't want to be alone.

"Danny where are you!" Frank yells, wincing in pain as his ribs shift. Silence echoes back at him, and he starts to limp faster. Almost running back to where he left Danny despite the throb in his leg.

His dad left him so fast. He never even had a chance to see that fuck. The only memory he ever had of his mom was her dead fucking body slumped against the washroom toilet. Every foster family that took him in never cared. They sent him to his room, sent him away. He was troubled, a bad seed, fucked beyond repair. No one fucking wanted him. But that was okay. He could still be by people, still act like a human, still be in a pack.

His mind was solitary, but he wasn't alone.

The legion kept him company. They kept him here. A connection, a darkness within that he could make bloom. But they were different. They always had each other. They never knew isolation.

Danny knew. The man was the same empty shell as Frank. Neither would admit out loud how the raw fear of being alone tugged at their hearts.

Frank inserted himself into people's hearts like a fungus, rotting them from the inside. Danny played human in the daytime, blending in like Frank always had. He stalked people because he couldn't fucking stand the thought of being alone at night. Frank wanted to be with him as much as he hated to be with him because Danny understood. He knew what it was like to pretend to be a human.

That much, he understood. They really fucking deserved each other, eh? Might as well call it love.

His leg gives out and he collapses in the dirt with barely a sound. He turns onto his back to look at the stars. They shine dully in haze. Green lights dying in the sky as Frank stares up desperately. He turns to look into the mist, watching it swirl as a black figure moves towards him.

It's not a human. Its black and glowing red, a mind shaking hum coming from all sides as the thing approaches. No owls hoot, no noise but this brain melting rumble worming into Frank's mind. He stares into the grey abyss, wondering if out there Danny was staring back at him.

He turns his head back up to the sky, watching the stars go out one by one.

Leaving him all alone.

The mask smiles into the void, and everything ends all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny, appearing in the entitiys realm: _MICHAEL MYERS_


	15. Night Shroud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some loose ends in the material plane

**'Car Crash on Mt. Ormond Reservation'** '

On May, XX, 1998 a vehicle belonging to a local family was found on the Mt. Ormond reservation completely totaled. The truck had been reported stolen by Mathieu Prescott and Jérémy Prescott six days ago. The son claims to have loaned it to a friend and had expected it back shortly.

The truck was found by a local teens exploring the off limits resort just yesterday. Police investigation reveals that the driver lost control of the vehicle on the only bunny hill and swerved into the treeline. Footprints, medical supplies and blood found on the scene suggest two people were in the vehicle during the crash. But no bodies have been found, and no tracks are discernible.'

\----

**'Mt. Ormond Crash and Its Connection To The Ghostface Murders'** '

Jedidiah 'Jed' Olsen, the most recent suspect in the Ghostface Investigation has been confirmed missing by police. The man was to be brought into custody XX, XX, 1998. Only hours before the mysterious Ormond crash was said to happen. Police say that Mr. Olsen was being considered as a suspect after a new Detective took over the scene. Police suspect that the crash may be a carefully orchestrated event by the man to cover his tracks.

A duffle bag containing Jed Olsen's personal belongings as well as incriminating evidence was recently revealed to the media as being found at the scene of the wreck. Police have refused further comment.'

\-----

**'The Ghostface Takes His Final Victim.'** '

Frank Daniel Morrison, born April 20th, 1977, has been identified as missing, is now presumed dead. The owner of the truck from the Mt. Ormond Crash has finally admitted to loaning the vehicle to Mr. Morrison. Claiming it was only to "Get out of town for a bit."

Mr. Prescott has confirmed that Frank felt _ ' "Uncomfortable around Jed. (He) Refused to let the guy near us." _

Susan Sainte-Marie and Julie Becker, friends of Frank have also confirmed that leading up to his disappearance the young man had been acting "Strange"

_ "He wasn't getting a lot of sleep. Made excuses and would avoid us. He mentioned being scared that he was being stalked by the killer but we...we thought it was a prank at first," _ Susan said in a police interview, teary eyed, _ "When I looked at all the victims houses on a map I saw they circled his house and when I tried to tell him he just...got mad. That was the last time I ever saw him." _

Julie Becker admits the Frank was a troubled young man, but makes multiple references to his rough childhood as the cause of it all.  _ "He grew up in the system, can't expect him to be all put together. I didn't think he would just...vanish like this." _ Julie said in an interview with police.

Jérémy Prescott has refused to disclose information to police or the media. His silence is telling, but some defend him despite the implications.

_ "Joey was the last person to see Frank alive. Give him some time you." _ Julie quotes.

We all hope to find the body of Frank Morrison and put his stepfather at peace, although police have said not to expect much.

Multiple images of Mr. Morrison were found in Mr. Olsen's hotel room, along with images of other victims. The pictures have been described by officers as "Invasive" and "Disturbing". A search of Mr. Morrison's room revealed the markings deeply paranoid and depressed young man living with the threat of death.

Clippings of the Ghostface murders were found in his room, an attempt at detective work, along with numerous notes signed from the Ghostface himself. Handwriting Analysis reveals the notes as being similar to Mr. Olsen's handwriting, an 85% match. The notes seem to be taunting letters, striking fear into Mr. Morrison's heart.

_ "If you say no I'll slit your pretty throat." _

Just one of the chilling threats penned by the killer himself. Police say they will not rest until justice is given for Frank Morrison, and the rest of the Ghostface victims.'

\----

"Joey, please can we go home?" Susie asks, staring at the police tape sadly.

"Just a little longer." Joey replies, circling the scene for the umpteenth time.

Julie watches them from a distance, staring at the long trampled investigation. The police didn't know a lot of things. Susie had put together that Frank must've been seeing that Jed guy behind their backs. It hurt to know Frank kept such a big thing from them, especially after seeing how much the man had been hurting him. Joey paces the tree line again, looking at the same roots and branches as before.

He wasn't taking this well, none of them were. Almost a month without Frank, finding out he was probably dead in the woods somewhere getting eaten by bears or some shit while Jed walked off made her sick. She remembered when Joey told her what happened that night. How Frank had been crying and desperate to get out of town. Joey had been sobbing uncontrollably, blabbering about how he should've called the cops and gotten Jed arrested. How he was going to kill the fucker himself and bury him deeper than hell.

Julie just felt numb. Disappointed the Frank didn't talk to them, that they didn't talk to Frank. That all of this slide out of control so fast. They lost him before they even knew what they really had to lose. If felt like after the janitor stuff they had been closer than ever, mutual guilt and protective instinct keeping them together. But it had changed them. It changed Frank, it changed Joey, it haunted Susie, and it haunted her. Driving them all further and further apart.

She can still feel the grip of the man's arm, and the scream of surprise leaving her throat. Marking him for dead.

She wondered if Frank had screamed too. If he took Jed out with him like he said.

Rain starts to fall, and Julie walks over to Susie to wrap an arm around her shaking frame. Her breath comes out in a mist, and she calls to Joey as he circles the scene again.

"Joey please."

The man stops, staring into the woods with his shoulders slumped in defeat. This had been hard on him. The media was dragging him through the mud, once he stopped cooperating. Julie was glad the papers didn't know the half of it.

"What's that?" Susie says softly, pointing her flashlight into the woods. Julie squints as something black darts further back.

Joey starts towards the woods, despite Susie's protest, climbing over the bushes as a mist starts to descend.

"Hey wait!" Julie calls, grabbing Susie's hand and leading her in. She wasn't going to leave these guys alone.

"Frank?" Joey yells as the catch up, squinting through the pine trees. It was almost impossible to see due to the combination of dark skies and foliage.

Distantly, an orange light appears. It flickers slightly, like a campfire. An owl hoots, and Susie clutches her hand tighter.

"We should go back."

"No..." Julie says, dragging Susie closer and standing next to Joey, "What is that?"

Joey marches forward, and she follows. Susie reluctantly trailing behind her.

If she were to turn around, she would see the mist closing behind them. The Fog locking them away forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh thank you all so much for reading and commenting!! Writing this fic was an absolute blast and i cant wait to see more works for the ship! All ur nice words kept me writing this at a manic pace, and i hope you dont mind a downer ending!
> 
> (No, the legion are not survivors theyre killers like they gotta be)


End file.
